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BANCROFT 

LIBRARY 

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THE  LIBRARY 

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OF  CALIFORNIA 


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J- -'I 


A.  J.  Leach, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/earlydaystoriesoOOIeacrich 


EARLY  DAY 

STORIES 


"©e  Overland  Trail 

Animals  and  Birds  that  Lived  Here 

Hunting  Stories 

Looking  Backward 


By  A.  J.  LEACH 


Press  of 
HUSE  PUBLISHING  CO. 

Norfolk,   Neb. 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 


Prefator)^ 


This  book  is  descriptive,  historical,  instructive,  truth- 
ful. 

It  is  a  safe  book  for  the  young  people. 
It  is  intended  to  be  an   interesting  book  for  the  old 
people. 

These  stories  are  draw^n  from  the  personal  experiences 
of  the  author,  during  a  trip  across  Nebraska,  and  west- 
v^ard  over  the  mountains  to  the  Pacific  coast  in  the  year 
1852,  and  from  a  residence  in  Nebraska  since  May  IG, 
1867. 

It  is  a  book  of  frontier  stories  taken  from  actual  life. 
These  stories  wrere  first  printed  in  the  county  news- 
papers, with  no  thought  of  having  them  published  in  book 
J     form.    They  met  with  so  much  favor  that  it  was  determined 
O     to  send  them  forth  in  a  bound  volume. 

Here  it  is. 
O  A.  J.  LEACH, 

m    Oakdale,  Nebraska,  March  13,  1916. 

Ui 

< 


Contents 


Chapter                                                                                           Page 
I     Ignorance   of  Nebraska   History — A   Great  Thor- 
oughfare— The   Different    Starting   Points — The 
Overland  Stage — Marked  by  Graves  Along  the 
Route   5 

II  Start  from  Home  in  Genesee  County,  Mich. — ^Jour- 
ney on  Foot  to  La  Salle,  111. — Down  the  Illinois 
River  to  St.  Louis — Up  the  Missouri  to  St.  Jos- 
eph— Hire  Out  to  Drive  Team — Journey  With  Ox 
Team  from  St.  Joseph  to  Sarpy's  Landing 10 

III  Crossing  the  Missouri — Camp  Where  Bellevue  Now 

Stands— Gather  Wild  Strawberries  May  28,  1852 
— Start  West  on  the  Journey  from  the  Missouri 
May  29,  1852— Join  Capt.  Well's  Train— Cross 
the  Elkhorn  River 18 

IV  Halted  by  a  Band  of  Pawnees  at  Shell  Creek — Pay 

Toll  for  Crossing  the  Creek — Cross  Loup  Fork 
Near  the  Present  Site  of  Genoa 25 

V  From  Loup  Fork  to  Wood  River — Buffalo  Chips — 
Lone  Tree — The  First  Buffalo  Hunt — Flagging 
Antelope    31 

VI  The  Journey  up  the  Platte  Valley — Hunting  Moun- 
tain Sheep — Talk  With  a  Sioux  Indian — The 
Buffalo  Hunt 39 

VII     Incidents  of  the  Journey — Out  on  the  Trail  Over 

Night — The  Dogs  and  the  Wolves 45 

VIII     The  Cholera— Death  of  Hosea  Ballou— The  Story 

of  Mrs.  Knapp  and  Her  Baby 52 

IX  Four  Young  Men  Leave  the  Train  and  Go  On  Afoot 
— Arrival  at  the  Dalles — Trip  Down  the  Colum- 
bia— Arrive  at  Oregon  City 58 


Chapter  Page 

X     Wild  Animals  and  Birds  that  Lived  Here..... 66 

XI     Wild  Animals  and  Birds  that  Lived  Here — Cont 73 

XII     Wild  Animals  and  Birds  that  Lived  Here — Con- 
cluded       82 

XIII  Hunting  Stories— Antelope— White-tail  Deer— Elk    90 

XIV  Hunting  Elk  and  Deer  in  Wheeler    and    Garfield 

Counties  98 

XV  Hunting  Elk  and  Deer  in  Custer  County 107 

XVI  A  Summer  Hunt 115 

XVII  Hunting  Near  Home 122 

XVIII  Hunting  and  Camping  Lore 131 

XIX  A  Hunting  Trip  to  Wyoming 137 

XX  A  Hunting  Trip  to  Wyoming — Continued 146 

XXI  A  Hunting  Trip  to  Wyoming— Concluded 152 

XXII  The  Black  Hills 162 

XXIII  Two  Black  Hills  Bear  Stories.    No.  1 167 

XXIV  Hunting  Stories  and  Habits  of  the  Wild  Animals....  177 

XXV    Hunting   Stories   and  Habits  of  Wild  Animals — 

Continued    183 

XXVI     Hunting   Stories  and   Habits   of  Wild  Animals — 

Concluded    190 

XXVII    Hunting  Stories— Lying  in  Wait  for  Game 196 

XXVIII     Hunting  Stories — Lying  in  Wait  for  Game — Con- 
cluded   204 

XXIX    Hunting  Stories — Hunting  Without  a  Gun 211 

XXX    Hunting  Stories — My  Last  Big  Hunt  in  Wheeler 

and  Garfield  Counties 219 

XXXI    Looking  Backward.    No.  1 227 

XXXII    Looking  Backward.    No.  2 235 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Ignorance  of  Nebraska  History — A  Great  Thoroughfare — 
The  Different  Starting  Points — The  Overland  Stage — 
Marked  by  Graves  Along  the  Route. 

This  story  is  w^ritten  chiefly  for  the  young  people,  but 
it  may  interest  also  the  older  ones,  some  of  vi^hom  possibly 
may  have  a  dim  and  shadowy  remembrance  of  events  de- 
scribed herein,  or  of  the  persons  who  took  part  in  these 
events,  and  who  helped  to  make  them  a  part  of  the  history 
of  our  state  and  country. 

There  is  much  ignorance  among  our  young  people, 
and  the  older  ones  as  well,  about  the  early  history  of  the 
state  of  Nebraska.  The  reason  is  that  this  history  is  not 
found  in  full  in  our  books,  nor  taught  in  our  schools.  Im- 
portant events  that  transpired  in  the  early  days,  and  that 
left  a  lasting  impress  upon  the  destinies  of  our  state  are 
either  entirely  overlooked  or  have  received  only  mere  men- 
tion in  such  records  as  have  been  kept.  Plad  these  events 
happened  in  New  England  or  New  York  or  Virginia  in 
colonial  times  there  would  have  been  a  record  made  of  them, 
and  they  would  have  become  a  part  of  the  history  of  our 
country,  and  would  be  as  familiar  to  our  school  boys  and 
girls  of  today  as  are  the  stories  of  Pocahontas,  of  Red  Jack- 
et, and  of  Osceola. 

If  you  will  take  one  of  our  modern  large  dictionaries 
and  turn  to  the  list  of  proper  names,  you  will  easily  find 
such  names  as  Pocahontas,  Powhatan,  Red  Jacket,  Osce- 
ola, Tecumseh,  Pontiac,  Black  Hawk  and  many  others  who 
flourished  in  the  early  days  of  our  nation,  but  in  some  of 
them,  at  least,  you  will  look  in  vain  for  the  name  of  Black- 
bird or  Red  Cloud  or  Spotted  Tail  or  Sitting  Bull,  or  anv 


10  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

of  the  great  Indian  warriors  of  more  recent  times.  We 
have  become  a  great  people — wonderful  discoveries  are  con- 
stantly being  made — great  events  are  happening,  one  right 
after  the  other,  and  these  things  all  claim  our  attention,  so 
that  we  have  little  time  to  give  thought  to  matters  of  early 
history,  and  yet  these  things  should  not  be  neglected  nor 
forgotten. 

Before  there  was  a  railroad  west  of  the  Mississippi 
river,  the  country  then  known  as  Nebraska  territory  had 
the  greatest  thoroughfare  of  the  kind  ever  known  in  histor- 
ical times.  This  was  the  Overland  Trail,  starting  at  first 
from  Independence,  Missouri,  and  afterward  from  West- 
port,  Missouri,  (now  Kansas  City),  with  branches  from  St. 
Joseph,  Missouri,  from  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  and  from 
Nebraska  City,  Nebraska,  these  lines  all  converging  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Platte  nearly  opposite  Grand  Island,  the 
route  continued  on  west  through  Nebraska  to  Denver,  Salt 
Lake,  Oregon  and  California.  On  the  north  side  of  the 
Platte  river  was  another  prong  of  this  great  highway  that 
crossed  the  Missouri  at  Sarpy's  Landing,  (now  Bellevue), 
and  also  at  Kanesville,  (now  Council  Bluffs),  and  these  two 
uniting  at  the  crossing  of  the  Elkhorn  river  passed  up  the 
valley  on  the  north  side  of  the  Platte,  going  directly  through 
the  places  where  now  stand  the  cities  of  Fremont,  Columbus 
and  Grand  Island.  These  two  roads,  one  on  the  north, 
and  one  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte,  united  near  Fort 
Laramie  in  Wyoming  and  continued  on  west  as  one  thor- 
oughfare, but  divided  again  farther  west,  one  branch  going 
to  Oregon  and  one  to  California,  with  still  a  third  and 
shorter  one  to  Salt  Lake. 

On  the  7th  day  of  May,  1859,  gold  was  discovered  in 
Colorado.  Prior  to  this  date  Colorado  was  unsettled  and  un- 
known. There  were  a  few  traders  and  trappers  within  its 
borders,  and  possibly  a  few  settlers  of  Mexican  lineage  in 
the  extreme  southern  part,  but  as  a  whole  it  was  a  wilder- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  11 

ness,  unoccupied  excepting  by  wild  animals  and  scattered 
bands  of  Indians.  This  finding  of  gold  gave  great  impetus 
to  the  travel  through  Nebraska,  tens  of  thousands  of  peo- 
ple passing  over  the  road  in  covered  wagons,  many  of  the 
wagons  bearing  the  legend  'Tikes  Peak  or  bust." 

When  this  overland  trail  first  came  into  use  about  the 
year  1840  but  to  a  greater  extent  by  1843,  it  was  used 
chiefly  by  emigrants  to  Oregon,  and  later  to  CaHfornia  and 
still  later  by  the  Mormons  on  their  journey  to  Utah. 

After  the  discovery  of  gold  in  Colorado  a  vast  amount 
of  freighting  was  done  over  the  road,  one  firm,  that  of  Rus- 
sell, Majors  and  Waddell,  it  is  claimed  had  about  $2,000,000 
invested  in  the  business,  employing  6,000  teamsters,  and 
working  45,000  oxen  besides  many  horses  and  mules.  Be- 
fore the  building  of  the  U.  P.  Railroad,  the  freighting  and 
emigrant  travel  had  assumed  enormous  proportions.  There 
was  also  a  stage  line  carrying  the  United  States  mail  and 
passengers.  At  first  in  1850  there  was  a  stage  each  way 
once  a  month — in  1857  it  was  increased  to  a  weekly,  and 
in  1861  to  a  daily  service.  The  fare  by  stage  from  Mis- 
souri river  points  was  $75  to  Denver,  $150  to  Salt  Lake, 
and  $225  to  Placerville,  Calif. 

When  these  two  trails  were  first  traveled — one  on  the 
north  and  one  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte  river,  each 
one  consisted  of  a  single  wagon  road,  and  the  travel  was 
almost  entirely  of  wagons  drawn  by  ox  teams,  there  being 
from  two  to  four  yoke  of  oxen  to  each  covered  wagon ;  the 
wagons  following  one  directly  behind  the  other,  thus  form- 
ing only  a  single  track  or  road.  Along  the  left  side  of  the 
road  was  a  plain  foot  path  made  by  the  drivers.  As  the 
traffic  increased  over  the  road  other  tracks  were  made  par- 
allel with  the  first  one,  so  that  by  the  year  1860  there  were 
five  or  six  parallel  tracks  a  few  feet  apart,  meandering 
along  up  the  Platte  valley,  and  so  on  over  the  mountains 


12  •  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

to  Utah  and  the  Pacific  coast.  Before  the  railroad  was 
built,  this  was  the  great  highway  connecting  the  East  with 
the  West.  Over  it  passed  tens  of  thousands  of  emigrants 
to  Oregon,  California,  Utah  and  Colorado,  and  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  tons  of  freight,  in  the  form  of  machinery, 
tools,  provisions,  grain,  feed  and  merchandise  of  all  kinds 
needed  in  Colorado  and  Utah.  Nothing  like  it  was  ever 
seen  before  either  in  ancient  or  modern  times,  and  never 
will  be  seen  again.  There  were  two  other  routes  to  Colo- 
rado— one  called  the  Arkansas  valley  route  through  southern 
Kansas,  and  the  other  the  Smoky  Hill  route  through  cen- 
tral Kansas,  but  both  of  these  together  had  only  a  small 
fraction  of  the  travel  that  passed  through  Nebraska  over 
the  Oregon  and  California  trails.  This  trail  is  now  entirely 
obliterated  almost  everywhere  in  the  central  and  eastern 
parts  of  the  state,  where  the  land  is  arable  and  has  been 
put  in  cultivation,  but  as  one  goes  west  where  there  is  more 
waste  land  it  is  yet  plainly  marked  by  several  parallel  tracks, 
deeply  indented  in  the  soil  but  almost  everywhere  over- 
grown with  buffalo  grass.  A  few  years  ago  the  writer 
examined  the  trail  in  Scotts  Bluff  county  just  west  of 
Gehring.  Here  the  trail  passes  over  the  low  divide  separ- 
ating the  northern  from  the  southern  part  of  the  Scotts 
Bluff  Hills  or  mountains  as  they  should  properly  be  called. 
The  old  trail  as  it  passes  up  the  slope  on  the  eastern  side, 
and  so  on  through  the  gap,  is  still  used  for  a  wagon  road 
today,  but  as  it  goes  down  the  steeper  western  slope,  it  is 
gullied  out  by  the  rains  into  parallel  ravines  from  five  to 
fifteen  feet  deep.  On  the  north  side  of  the  river,  through 
an  almost  level  pasture  field  the  four  or  five  parallel  tracks 
were  cut  down  into  the  hard,  gravelly  soil  five  or  six  inches, 
but  all  covered  over  with  buffalo  and  gramma  grass. 

On  both  sides  of  the  Platte  river,  and  so  on  west  along 
the  whole  course,  clear  through  to  Oregon  and  California, 
these  trails  were  marked  by  the  graves  of  those  who  had 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  13 

dropped  out  by  the  way.  Some  of  these  graves  were  un- 
marked— some  were  marked  by  a  slab  or  board  only,  with 
the  name  and  age  and  date  cut  with  a  knife,  or  burned  in 
with  a  hot  iron ;  and  at  the  head  and  foot  of  others  a  rough 
stone  was  placed  without  inscription.  Very  few,  indeed, 
of  these  graves  can  be  located  today,  although  there  are 
thousands  of  them.  Perhaps  the  only  one  that  is  known 
in  the  eastern  part  of  the  state  is  in  Jefferson  county,  five 
miles  northwest  of  Fairbury;  this  has  for  a  headstone  a 
large  standstone  slab,  on  which  is  chiseled  the  following: 
''George  Winslow,  Newton,  Mass."  And  on  the  footstone, 
"1849."  As  one  goes  west  where  the  soil  is  harder  other 
graves  can  be  found,  but  generally,  the  markings,  if  there 
were  any  have  perished.  About  two  miles  east  of  the  village 
of  Scotts  Bluff  is  a  well  preserved  and  well  marked  grave 
that  was  visited  by  the  writer  a  few  years  ago  and  in  which 
he  took  great  interest  because  it  was  made  probably  only 
about  a  month  after  he  had  passed  along  the  route  driving 
four  yoke  of  oxen.  This  grave  was  marked  by  a  wagon 
tire  which  had  been  cut  and  the  ends  driven  into  the  earth 
so  as  to  form  a  bow  over  the  head  of  the  grave.  On  this 
was  cut  with  a  cold  chisel,  "Rebecca  Winters — aged  50 
years.  Died  Aug.  15,  1852."  A  short  distance  south  of 
the  grave  were  the  deep  indentations  in  the  earth,  still 
plainly  visible  made  by  the  wheels  of  thousands  of  wagons 
more  than  fifty  years  ago.  In  the  year  1902 — the  centen- 
nial year  of  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Winters,  her  grandchildren 
placed  an  enduring  stone  monument  properly  inscribed  at 
the  head  of  this  grave,  leaving  also  the  wagon  tire  with  the 
original  inscription  in  place. 


14  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  11. 

Start  from  Home  in  Genesee  County,  Mich. — Journey  on 
Foot  to  LaSalle,  111. — Down  the  Illinois  River  to  St. 
Louis — Up  the  Missouri  to  St.  Joseph — Hire  Out  to 
Drive  Team — ^Journey  With  Ox  Team  from  St.  Jos- 
eph to  Sarpy's  Landing. 

This  and  seven  following  chapters  will  be  mostly  a 
record  of  the  writer's  personal  experiences  on  a  journey 
from  central  Michigan  to  Sarpy's  Landing  (now  Bellevue, 
Neb.)  ;  and  thence. over  the  Overland  Trail  to  the  Pacific 
coast  during  the  spring  and  summer  of  1852.  It  is  given 
for  the  purpose  of  making  it  clear  and  plain  to  the  readers 
of  the  present  time,  how  things  looked  in  the  western  coun- 
try at  that  early  date,  and  how  people  traveled  in  those 
days,  and  what  opinions  about  this  country  were  held  at 
that  time.  The  reader  will  be  able  to  make  his  own  com- 
parisons between  things  as  they  were  then,  and  are  now, 
and  to  draw  his  own  conclusions.  It  is  not  expected  that 
anything  of  very  great  importance  will  be  recorded,  there 
is  nothing  strange  or  wonderful  to  tell,  but  it  is  believed 
that  the  contrast  between  the  past  and  the  present  will  be 
wonderful  to  contemplate,  and  almost  unbelievable,  because 
of  the  changes  that  have  taken  place.  In  1852  there  was 
not  a  railroad  west  of  the  Mississippi  river — Kansas  City 
was  a  little  village  then  called  Westport — St.  Paul  and 
Minneapolis,  if  they  existed  at  all,  were  mere  "villages," 
and  Omaha  was  not  on  the  map.  Western  Iowa  was  a 
thinly  settled  frontier  country,  only  partly  surveyed,  and 
was  the  extreme  limit  of  civilization — it  was  the  jumping 
off  place  on  a  journey  to  the  west. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  15 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1852,  I  was  living  near 
Flint,  Genesee  county,  Mich.,  where  I  had  lived  since  early 
boyhood — had  never  been  anywhere  else  since  I  was  a  small 
child,  and  had  no  knowledge  of  any  other  place  or  country 
except  from  reading  and  from  listening  to  the  talk  of 
others.  At  that  time  I  was  teaching  a  country  school — the 
first  I  had  ever  taught,  a  four  months'  term,  for  twelve 
dollars  per  month,  and  "board  round."  My  cousin,  Wesley 
G.  Conant,  about  three  years  my  senior,  but  also  my  chum 
and  companion,  was  working  in  a  cooper  shop,  making 
flour  and  pork  barrels.  We  got  the  Oregon  fever,  and  de- 
termined to  start,  as  soon  as  my  school  closed  in  the  spring, 
on  the  overland  journey  to  Oregon.  About  the  middle  of 
April,  1852,  we  were  ready.  Our  outfit  consisted  of  a  pony, 
valued  at  $30.00,  our  clothing,  a  rifle  apiece,  two  or  three 
pairs  of  blankets,  a  little  tent  just  big  enough  for  two  to 
sleep  under,  a  pack  saddle,  a  big  pair  of  canvas  saddle  bags, 
each  side  holding  about  a  bushel,  and  between  us  a  hundred 
dollars  in  money.  My  cousin  had  saved  up  fifty-five  dol- 
lars at  his  trade,  and  when  my  school  was  out  I  received 
a  district  order  for  my  whole  wages,  for  forty-eight  dollars 
for  the  four  months  work.  There  was  no  money  on  hand 
in  the  district  and  I  sold  the  order  for  forty-five  dollars  in 
cash. 

Packing  our  clothing  and  a  few  small  articles  in  the 
saddle  bags,  and  placing  this  and  all  our  other  equipage 
on  the  back  of  the  pony,  we  started  for  the  Great  West, 
on  foot,  leading  the  horse  by  the  bridle.  We  were  young, 
strong,  well  and  happy.    I  would  like  to  do  it  again. 

Going  in  a  southwest  direction  we  passed  through  such 
towns  as  Ann  Arbor,  Coldwater,  Burr  Oak  and  Sturgis. 
Mich.,  Elkhart,  South  Bend  and  Michigan  City,  Ind.,  and 
Joliet  and  Ottawa,  111.,  leaving  Chicago  about  thirty  miles 
to  the  north  of  our  course,  and  arriving  early  in  May  at 


16  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

La  Salle,  111.,  at  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Illinois  river. 
Could  our  young  people  of  Antelope  county  now  make  such 
a  journey,  just  as  it  was  then,  I  believe  that  what  would 
strike  them  as  the  strangest  of  all  things  along  the  journey, 
would  be  the  farms  cut  up  into  Httle  fields  of  from  five  to 
ten  acres  each,  and  all  fenced  with  the  old  fashioned  zigzag 
rail  fence.  Not  a  town  that  we  passed  through  on  this  trip 
from  home  to  La  Salle,  111.,  was  anything  more  than  a  fair 
sized  village  at  that  date,  although  some  of  them  are  large 
cities  now. 

At  La  Salle  we  took  passage  on  a  river  steamer  to  St. 
Louis,  where  we  purchased  provisions  for  the  trip,  consist- 
ing principally  of  flour,  parched  corn  meal,  bacon  and  beans. 
Parched  meal  was  used  because  ordinary  corn  meal  would 
not  keep  well  on  such  a  trip.  We  also  laid  in  a  supply  of 
powder  and  lead,  and  a  quantity  of  matches.  Tea  and 
coflFee  we  had  no  use  for,  and  of  sugar  we  took  only  a 
small  supply.  Peoria  was  the  only  city  of  any  size  we  saw 
until  we  reached  St.  Louis.  The  city  of  St.  Louis  was  a 
revelation  to  me.  I  had  never  been  in  a  place  half  as  large 
before.  There  were  no  railroads  running  into  St.  Louis 
then,  but  there  was  a  wilderness  of  steam  boats  tied  up  to 
the  quay,  or  coming  in  or  going  out,  or  receiving  or  dis- 
charging freight,  the  work  being  done  by  gangs  of  negro 
slaves.  The  streets  along  the  river  banks  were  paved  with 
cobble  stones,  and  the  rattle  of  the  wagons  and  trucks  over 
these,  the  screeching  of  whistles  and  the  hoarse  coughing 
from  the  exhaust  pipes  of  the  steamboats,  made  a  din  and 
racket  that  was  quite  confusing  to  a  green  country  boy  from 
the  backwoods  of  central  Michigan. 

The  trip  from  home  to  St.  Louis  had  been  on  the 
whole  very  pleasant.  As  stated  we  led  our  pony  all  the 
way  to  La  Salle,  111.,  and  we  also  furnished  our  own  pro- 
visions and  did  our  own  cooking,  excepting  that  we  bought 
our  bread.     I  do  not  remember  that  we  slept  in  a  bed  or 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  17 

ate  at  a  table  during  the  whole  time.  We  slept  in  a  house 
or  barn,  nearly  every  night,  paying  for  the  privilege,  what- 
ever the  charge  might  be  which,  if  any,  was  always  small. 
Sometimes  when  it  was  pleasant  we  slept  in  the  little  tent. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  rainy  weather  and  sometimes  the 
roads  were  muddy,  but  generally  we  had  a  good  time  and 
at  small  cost.  The  trip  down  the  Illinois  by  boat  we  thought 
very  fine  and  enjoyed  it  much,  as  it  was  the  first  trip  we 
had  ever  made  on  a  river  steamboat.  The  steamboat  stop- 
ped at  every  town  along  the  way  to  take  on  or  discharge 
passengers  or  freight,  and  as  we  were  going  down  stream, 
the  boat  always  made  a  turn  in  landing  so  as  to  bring  the 
bow  of  the  boat  up  stream.  This  is  always  the  way  with  a 
river  steamboat,  to  land  with  the  bow  up  stream. 

At  St.  Louis  we  shipped  on  another  and  much  larger 
steamboat  for  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  which  was  to  be  our  starting 
point  for  the  journey  by  the  Overland  Trail.  Our  boat  was 
heavily  loaded  with  passengers,  wagons,  mules,  horses,  oxen 
and  supplies,  all  bound  for  Oregon  or  California.  Among 
the  passengers  were  many  women  and  children.  The  pas- 
sengers were  mostly  from  Illinois  with  also  quite  a  sprink- 
Hng  of  emigrants  from  Missouri,  Kentucky  and  Tennessee. 
Of  course  we  took  deck  passage  and  fed  ourselves,  and  we 
also  had  a  bale  of  hay  and  some  oats  for  the  pony.  Many 
of  the  emigrants  had  their  wagons  and  supplies  on  board, 
but  no  stock  of  any  kind,  intending  to  buy  oxen  or  mules 
on  their  arrival  at  St.  Joseph. 

It  was  a  tedious  journey  up  the  Missouri  river.  Many 
times  the  boat  ran  aground  and  had  to  back  off  down 
stream  and  seek  a  different  and  deeper  channel.  Some- 
times the  boat  would  stick  fast  for  two  or  three  hours,  and 
then  spars  had  to  be  rigged  as  levers,  and  the  force  of  the 
engine  applied  by  means  of  ropes  and  pulleys  to  push  it 
off  the  sand  bar.  At  Westport,  now  Kansas  City,  a  large 
number  of  passengers  disembarked,  and  a  great  amount  of 


18  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

freight  was  unloaded.  These  emigrants  that  got  off  at 
Westport,  whether  going  to  Oregon  or  CaHfornia,  would 
take  the  trail  that  run  northwest  from  Westport,  and  would 
strike  Nebraska  on  the  south  line  of  what  is  now  Jeffer- 
son county,  and  the  Platte  a  little  west  of  Grand  Island. 

At  Westport  while  the  boat  was  discharging  freight 
a  lot  of  the  young  men  arranged  a  match  to  see  who  could 
jump  the  highest.  The  match  was  to  be  between  the  steer- 
age and  cabin  passengers.  Two  older  men  were  chosen  to 
hold  a  string  at  a  certain  height,  gauged  by  notches  cut  in 
a  pole;  this  was  gradually  raised  a  notch  higher  each  time 
until  only  my  cousin  Wesley  was  left  to  represent  the  steer- 
age, and  a  nice  looking  young  gentleman  dressed  in  black 
for  the  cabin  passengers.  The  string  had  been  gradually 
raised  to  about  five  feet — both  contestants  stripped  to  their 
shirts,  pants  and  socks.  Our  friend  from  the  cabin  made 
his  jump  and  cleared  the  string,  then  Wesley  did  the  same, 
both  apparently  clearing  it  with  ease.  Wesley,  however, 
declared  he  had  done  his  best,  and  was  willing  to  call  the 
contest  a  draw.  The  other  said  he  beheved  he  could  do 
one  notch  better.  He  tried  it,  cleared  the  string  and  won 
the  game,  but  his  black  pants  were  split  behind  from  the 
suspenders  down.  Covering  the  exposed  part  of  his  per- 
son with  both  hands,  he  hurried  to  the  cabin  without  waiting 
to  listen  to  the  plaudits  of  the  audience. 

A  day  or  two  later  we  arrived  at  St.  Joseph  where  we 
unloaded  our  stuff,  pitched  our  little  tent  and  began  to 
prepare  for  the  trip  across  the  plains.  I  had  been  sick  for 
two  or  three  days  from  what  was  supposed  to  be  a  bad  cold, 
but  on  coming  to  the  tent  one  day  from  a  trip  up  town, 
my  cousin  found  me  nicely  broken  out  with  the  measles. 
I  kept  close  to  the  tent,  was  careful  not  to  take  cold  and 
was  soon  all  right  again. 

St.  Joseph  at  that  time  was  perhaps  as  large  a  place 
as  Neligh  is  at  the  present  time,  but  not  nearly  so  compact- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  19 

ly  built,  and  with  much  poorer  buildings  than  Neligh  now 
has.  It  was  a  lively  place — there  were  hundreds  of  people 
camped  near  the  town,  some  in  tents  and  some  in  covered 
wagons,  all  preparing  for  their  western  journey.  We  knew 
that  we  could  not  pack  supplies  enough  on  our  pony  to  last 
us  more  than  half  way  to  Oregon,  and  our  intention  was 
to  hire  out  to  drive  teams  for  others.  While  I  was  sick 
with  the  measles  my  cousin  found  a  man  who  wanted  two 
men  to  drive  his  team,  so  that  he  might  have  time  to  hunt 
and  fish  and  look  out  for  camping  places,  or  do  anything 
else  that  suited  him.  He  offered  that  if  we  would  drive 
his  team,  and  give  him  our  pony,  he  would  haul  our  stuff, 
put  our  provisions  in  with  his,  he  and  his  wife  doing  the 
cooking,  and  that  we  should  all  eat  together  and  work  to- 
gether as  one  family  during  the  entire  journey  to  Oregon. 
We  accepted  his  offer,  found  them  nice  intelligent  people 
and  we  got  along  well  together.  His  name  was  Knapp, 
but  his  first  name  has  been  forgotten.  I  have  heard  that 
Knappton  in  Washington  was  named  for  him.  His  family 
consisted  of  his  wife  and  a  little  girl  about  two  years  of  age. 

Mr.  Knapp  bought  for  the  journey  a  yoke  of  oxen  well 
broken  and  handy,  and  a  yoke  of  three  year  old,  and  another 
of  two  year  old  steers  and  a  yoke  of  cows.  The  steers  and 
cows  were  tame  but  had  never  been  yoked  up  and  our  first 
work  was  to  break  them  in.  This  was  not  difficult  for  we 
both  had  been  used  to  oxen  all  our  lives  but  had  never  used 
horses  to  any  extent. 

Mr.  Knapp  decided  to  take  the  trail  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Platte  river,  believing  there  would  be  less  travel  on 
that  side  and  therefore  better  grass  for  the  stock.  We  there- 
fore struck  out  to  drive  up  along  the  east  side  of  the  Mis- 
souri river  through  northwestern  Missouri  and  southwest- 
ern Iowa  to  Traders'  Point  opposite  to  where  Bellevue, 
Neb.,  now  stands,  where  we  would  cross  the  river  to  Sarpy's 
Trading  post,  and  begin  our  western  journey.     We  found 


20  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  country  well  settled  and  quite  well  improved  until  we 
crossed  the  Iowa  line,  when  the  settlements  became  new 
and  thin  and  the  improvements  small.  At  Sidney,  Iowa, 
as  I  remember  it  there  was  one  house  only,  in  which  the 
Sidney  post  office  was  kept.  At  Glenwood  there  was  a 
small  collection  of  houses  and  another  post  office. 

Rather  an  amusing  thing  occurred  a  day  or  so  after 
leaving  St.  Joseph.  As  we  went  into  camp  at  night,  I 
found  an  old  farmer  camped  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
us  with  a  whole  wagon  load  of  smoked  hams,  shoulders, 
and  bacon,  on  his  way  to  St.  Joseph  to  market.  Reporting 
the  fact  to  Mr.  Knapp  he  directed  me  to  buy  from  the  old 
farmer  a  half  dozen  or  so  of  hams,  and  handed  me  a  little 
pasteboard  box  containing,  I  should  say,  from  seventy-five 
to  a  hundred  gold  dollars.  This  was  before  the  era  of 
greenbacks  or  national  currency.  Our  money  consisted  at 
that  time  principally  of  bills  issued  by  state  or  private  banks, 
much  of  which  was  at  a  discount,  and  most  of  it  unsafe. 
There  was  however  much  gold  and  silver  in  circulation. 
Mr.  Knapp  had  saved  up  expressly  for  this  journey  all  the 
gold  dollars  he  could  get.  Probably  most  of  my  readers 
have  never  seen  a  gold  dollar — it  is  somewhat  less  in  size 
and  thinner  than  a  dime.  I  wish  they  were  in  circulation 
now — it  was  the  prettiest  money  I  ever  -saw.  I  selected  the 
hams,  the  farmer  weighing  them  with  his  steelyards — we 
figured  up  the  amount,  and  I  counted  out  the  sum  in  gold 
dollars,  making  the  small  change  in  silver.  He  looked  at 
the  money  and  said:  "I  'low  it  mought  be  good  all  right, 
but  I  never  seed  sich  money  afore.  I  reckon  I'll  take  my 
pay  in  bills."  I  had  to  go  back  and  get  paper  money  for 
him. 

On  arriving  at  Traders'  Point  I  inquired  for  Council 
Bluffs  post  office  and  was  directed  to  a  little  one  story 
frame  house  about  a  mile  away  on  the  prairie.  Here  I  got 
letters  from  home,  the  first  we  had  received,  and  a  good 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  21 

drink  of  buttermilk  and  lots  of  good  advice  from  the  kind 
old  Mormon  lady  who  kept  the  post  office. 

What  is  now  Council  Bluffs  was  then  called  Kanes- 
ville,  and  Council  Bluffs  post  office  at  that  time  was  near 
Traders'  Point.  I  thought  the  country  passed  over  from 
St.  Joseph  to  Traders'  Point  very  fine,  and  after  we  crossed 
the  Missouri  river  and  passed  on  west  this  fine  country 
continued  until  we  crossed  the  Elkhorn  and  struck  the 
Platte  bottom,  after  which  I  did  not  like  it  so  well.  I  will 
now  say,  however,  after  having  had  some  experience,  and 
having  traveled  extensively  in  twenty  or  more  states,  that 
I  think  the  eastern  third  of  Nebraska,  and  the  western  third 
of  Iowa,  the  very  finest  and  best  farming  country  I  have 
ever  seen  anywhere,  of  equal  extent. 


22  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Crossing  the  Missouri — Camp  where  Bellevue  now  stands — 
Gather  wild  strawberries  May  28,  1852 — Start  west  on 
the  journey  from  the  Missouri  May  29,  1852 — ^Join 
Capt.  Wells'  train — Cross  the  Elkhorn  River. 

There  were  not  many  emigrants  camped  at  Traders' 
Point  on  our  arrival  there,  but  they  were  coming  from  the 
east  every  day  in  covered  wagons  chiefly  from  Illinois  and 
eastern  Iowa,  but  some  also  from  Indiana  and  Wisconsin. 
There  had  been  a  large  number  of  emigrants  at  this  point 
a  few  days  before  our  arrival,  awaiting  their  turn  to  be 
ferried  across  the  river,  but  a  river  steamboat  that  had 
been  used  as  a  ferry  boat  had  transferred  the  last  of  these 
just  a  day  or  so  before  we  came.  This  steamboat  had  now 
gone  down  the  river,  leaving  only  two  or  three  flat  boats 
to  do  the  ferrying.  These  flat  boats  could  carry  only  one 
wagon  and  the  team  attached  at  a  time,  and  it  was  slow 
work.  We  drove  the  wagon  on  to  the  boat  with  only  one 
yoke  of  oxen  attached,  leading  the  other  three  yoke  aboard 
and  tying  them  to  the  wagon  wheels.  The  boat  was  carried 
over  the  river  mostly  by  the  force  of  the  current,  which 
set  across  obliquely  from  the  loading  place  to  the  landing 
on  the  opposite  shore,  but  was  also  propelled  and  guided 
by  two  men  with  setting  poles,  and  by  a  man  with  a  large 
oar  that  worked  on  a  pivot  at  the  stern.  The  current  was 
very  swift  and  the  boat  was  carried  down  stream  at  least 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  landing.  On  the  return  trip  the 
boat  was  cordelled,  that  is,  drawn  by  a  rope  and  pushed 
by  setting  poles,  up  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  half  or 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  to  a  place  where  the  current  set 
across  to  the  eastern  shore.  It  must  have  taken  nearly  two 
hours  to  transfer  one  load  and  make  the  return     to     the 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  23 

eastern  bank.  It  was  almost  night  when  we  got  across, 
and  driving  out  a  short  distance  west  of  Sarpy's  trading 
post  we  camped  for  the  night  within  the  Hmits  of  the  present 
village  of  Bellevue,  Sarpy  county,  Nebraska. 

Sarpy's  post,  at  that  time  consisted,  as  I  remember  it, 
of  the  store  buildings  of  Peter  A.  Sarpy,  a  blacksmith  shop 
for  the  Indians,  a  mission  school,  a  government  Indian 
Agency,  and  three  or  four  dwellings.  There  were  no  set- 
tlers in  Nebraska,  then,  nor  for  two  years  thereafter.  The 
first  real  settlers — farmers  who  came  to  make  this  their 
home — to  raise  crops  and  to  improve  and  develop  the  coun- 
try, did  not  begin  to  arrive  until  the  summer  and  fall  of 
1854.  There  were  military  and  trading  posts  within  the 
present  boundaries  of  the  state — there  were  traders,  hunt- 
ers and  two  or  three  missionaries  among  some  of  the  Indian 
tribes,  and  although  tens  of  thousands  of  emigrants  to  the 
territories  further  west  had  crossed  the  fertile  plains  of 
Nebraska  seeking  for  homes,  none  of  them  tarried  here. 
The  country  was  not  open  to  settlement,  the  title  of  the  In- 
dians to  the  land  was  not  extinguished  until  the  summer 
of  1854. 

It  is  sometimes  claimed  that  Manuel  de  Lisa  was  the 
first  settler  in  Nebraska.  He  was  a  fur  trader  and  not  a 
settler  in  the  true  meaning  of  the  word.  He  established 
probably  the  first  trading  post  in  Nebraska,  about  the  year 
1807,  at  or  near  the  present  site  of  Ft.  Calhoun,  Washing- 
ton county,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  here,  but  he  also 
had  trading  posts  in  Dakota  and  in  Montana — his  head- 
quarters were  in  St.  Louis,  where  he  died  in  1820,  He 
could  not  with  propriety  be  called  a  settler. 

After  camping,  I  was  sent  out  to  watch  the  cattle  while 
they  pastured  upon  the  grass.  There  were  three  or  four 
other  emigrant  wagons  with  us,  and  as  we  had  agreed  to 
keep  together,  and  travel  in  company  a  few  days  at  least, 


24  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

onr  cattle  were  all  turned  out  together,  to  be  herded  until 
about  nine  o'clock,  when  they  were  driven  in  and  tied  to 
the  wagons  during  the  night,  to  be  turned  loose  again  as 
soon  as  daylight  appeared  in  the  east.  While  herding  the 
cattle  I  found  ripe  wild  strawberries,  not  in  great  abund- 
ance, as  they  were  just  beginning  to  ripen,  but  enough  to 
remind  me  of  home,  as  the  strawberry  plants  were  about 
the  only  kind  of  vegetation  that  had  a  familiar  look — every- 
thing else  being  new,  strange  and  unfamiliar.  I  had  come 
from  a  thickly  timbered  country,  and  this  was  my  first  view 
of  a  new,  wild,  prairie  land.  Everything  looked  strange  to 
me.  The  oak,  elm  and  ash  trees  had  somewhat  of  a  familiar 
look,  but  they  were  different — they  were  not  nearly  so  tall, 
were  more  bushy  and  spreading  and  altogether  of  a  differ- 
ent appearance  from  the  same  varieties  back  home.  Among 
the  grasses  and  wild  flowers  of  the  prairie,  and  the  weeds 
growing  in  the  ravines,  there  was  not  one  that  had  a  famil- 
iar look  excepting  the  wild  strawberries.  Years  afterward, 
when  I  had  become  a  resident  of  Nebraska  and  had  famil- 
iarized myself  with  the  trees,  shrubs,  grasses  and  other  wild 
plants  of  the  state,  I  found  many  that  are  identical  with  the 
same  varieties  of  my  home  state,  but  I  did  not  recognize 
any  of  them  then. 

The  next  morning,  May  29th,  1852,  we  started  on  our 
journey  by  way  of  the  Overland  Trail,  bound  for  Oregon 
City,  Oregon.  The  road  was  a  splendid  one — a  hard,  well 
beaten  track,  showing  much  travel,  and  meandering  to  the 
northwest  over  a  beautiful  gently  rolling  prairie  country, 
thickly  covered  with  new  fresh  grass  five  or  six  inches  high 
and  dotted  with  little  plats  of  blue  and  yellow  spring  flow- 
ers. The  road  held  to  the  divide  between  the  little  timbered 
creeks  and  ravines  running  east  toward  the  Missouri  and 
the  branches  bearing  south  or  southwest  that  were  tributary 
to  the  PapilHon.  As  our  road  followed  the  high  land  the 
view  was  extensive  and  enchanting.    Grander  and  sublimer 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  25 

scenery  can  be  found  among  the  mountains  of  Colorado, 
or  Montana,  or  along  the  ocean  coast  of  Oregon  or  Wash- 
ington, but  for  exquisite  beauty  and  loveliness,  no  scenery 
can  excel  or  equal  that  of  a  fertile  rolling  prairie  in  spring- 
time, just  as  God  made  it,  with  its  green  hills,  its  sloping 
valleys,  its  little  meandering  timber-bordered  streams,  and 
its  plats  of  blue,  purple  and  yellow  flowers.  And  so  it  was 
here  in  Antelope  county  when  I  first  saw  it  in  1869.  I 
would  like  to  live  in  such  a  place,  with  such  surroundings, 
forever — but  the  White  Man  has  come  with  his  plow,  his 
railroad,  his  telephone,  his  automobile  and  other  discom- 
forts of  civilization  and  spoiled  it.  I  do  not  blame  the  White 
Man — it  is  his  way  and  I  helped  to  do  the  spoiling  myself. 
But  I  look  back  with  a  tinge  of  sorrow  and  of  regret,  and 
of  longing  to  once  more  see  what  I  never  can  behold  again ; 
a  fertile  prairie  land  in  all  its  pristine  loveliness,  just  as  it 
came  from  the  hand  of  its  Creator.  These  things  are  all 
of  the  past  and  can  never  be  again,  and  like  Alexander  the 
Great,  I  weep  that  it  is  so  and  that  there  are  no  more  lands 
to  conquer. 

That  night  we  camped  on  a  little  branch  of  the  Pa- 
pillion,  where  there  was  a  fine  grove  of  elm  timber,  some 
of  the  trees  being  very  large.  The  grass  and  water  were 
both  abundant  and  good,  and  it  was  an  ideal  camping 
ground,  excepting  that  there  was  no  dry  wood,  the  previous 
campers  having  used  all  that  was  in  sight.  The  next  morn- 
ing it  was  raining,  and  it  continued  to  rain  all  day  and  grew 
very  cold  for  the  season  of  the  year.  It  was  difficult  to 
keep  a  fire  with  the  green  elm,  but  by  piling  on  a  large 
quantity  of  the  green  fuel,  and  finding  some  dry  branches 
by  going  a  long  way  for  them,  we  finally  got  and  kept  up  a 
good  fire.  Toward  evening  the  rain  ceased  and  Mr.  Knapp 
went  out  with  the  rifle  and  shot  the  heads  off  of  four  or 
five  wild  pigeons.  These  were  not  the  mourning  or  turtle 
dove,  such  as  we  have  here  now,  but  were  the  genuine  pas- 


26  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

senger  pigeon,  now  an  extinct  variety,  but  which  were  more 
abundant  sixty  years  ago  than  blackbirds  are  today,  and 
which  were  often  seen  in  larger  flocks  than  any  flocks  of 
blackbirds  of  the  present  time.  That  night  two  Indians 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  and  accompanied  by  a  little 
Indian  boy  about  twelve  years  old  came  to  the  camp  and 
asked  permission  to  sleep  by  our  fire.  This  was  granted 
and  at  bed  time  they  curled  up  in  their  buffalo  robes,  and 
kept  quiet  until  after  the  morning  fire  was  started.  They 
were  clothed  with  a  band  around  the  middle,  with  an  apron 
or  flap  suspended  before  and  behind  extending  about  half 
way  to  the  knees.  Each  adult  Indian  also  had  a  good  buf- 
falo robe  thrown  over  the  shoulders  and  moccasins  on  his 
feet.  The  boy  had  nothing  on  except  a  short  cotton  shirt. 
We  had  Johnny  cake  for  breakfast  next  morning  and  Mrs. 
Knapp  gave  the  Indians  a  quantity  of  the  dough,  which  they 
cooked  in  the  ashes,  covering  it  with  coals.  The  little  In- 
dian found  the  place  where  I  had  cleaned  the  pigeons,  and 
taking  the  entrails,  stripped  them  through  his  fingers  so 
as  to  press  out  what  was  on  the  inside,  and  then  broiled 
them  with  the  gizzards,  heads  and  feet,  upon  the  coals. 
These  with  the  hot  roasted  Johnny  cake  were  eaten  with 
evident  relish. 

Leaving  the  camp  on  the  little  Papillion,  we  passed  over 
the  divide  and  dowii  the  western  slope  to  the  Elkhorn  river. 
Here  there  was  a  rope  ferry,  the  rope  being  attached  to  a 
tree  on  either  side  of  the  river,  and  to  this  two  short  ropes 
with  pulleys,  these  shorter  ropes  being  connected  with  the 
ferry  boat  or  scow,  which  was  carried  across  the  river  by 
the  force  of  the  current. 

The  country  now  became  very  flat  and  moist,  as  we 
had  entered  upon  the  great  Platte  valley,  which  we  were 
to  follow  in  an  almost  directly  west  course  for  more  than 
six  hundred  miles.    The  road  was  wet  and  heavy  until  after 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  27 

crossing  the  Rawhide,  a  short  distance  east  of  the  present 
site  of  Fremont,  when  it  became  better  again. 

There  was  a  large  village  of  Pawnee  Indians  at  that 
time  just  across  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte,  and  some 
of  them  were  with  us  nearly  all  the  time ;  they  were  friendly 
and  gave  no  trouble  whatever,  but  we  did  not  feel  safe  and 
determined  to  unite  with  a  larger  company  at  the  first 
opportunity.  That  opportunity  came  very  soon.  We  met 
with  a  company  of  emigrants  from  Illinois,  consisting  of 
about  seventeen  wagons,  who  were  on  their  way  to  Califor- 
nia. They  had  crossed  the  river,  as  I  recollect  it,  at  Kanes- 
ville,  now  Council  Bluffs,  and  had  encamped  exactly  where 
Omaha  now  stands.  They  were  fully  organized,  having  a 
captain,  a  lieutenant,  and  an  orderly  and  had  adopted  rules 
and  regulations  for  the  journey.  It  was  known  as  Capt. 
Wells'  train.  We  applied  for  permission  to  join  the  com- 
pany, which  was  readily  granted  on  our  agreeing  to  con- 
fonn  to  the  rules  and  regulations.  The  company  consisted 
of  twenty-one  wagons,  I  think,  after  we  had  joined,  forty- 
two  men,  and  about  a  dozen  or  fifteen  women,  and  prob- 
ably twenty  or  more  children.  The  men  were  all  armed, 
generally  with  rifles,  but  some  had  single  or  double  barrel- 
ed shotguns,  and  quite  a  good  many  carried  revolvers,  or 
single  barreled  pistols.  We  were  well  armed  and  equipped, 
as  these  things  were  considered  then,  but  all  the  fire  arms 
were  muzzle  loaders,  as  breech  loading  guns  had  not  come 
into  use  at  that  time. 

The  captain  selected  the  camping  places,  or  sent  his 
lieutenant  or  orderly  on  ahead  for  that  purpose.  The  stock 
was  turned  loose  to  feed  as  soon  as  camp  was  made  and  a 
temporary  guard  placed  over  it.  As  soon  as  supper  was 
over  guards  were  mounted  for  the  night,  two  to  guard  the 
wagons  which  were  placed  in  a  circle  with  the  tents  inside, 
and  two  to  guard  the  cattle  which  were  allowed  to  run 
loose  all  night,  but  were  not  permitted  to  stray  away.    About 


28  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

nine  o'clock  the  horses  were  brought  inside  the  circle  and 
secured  to  the  wagons.  There  were  very  few  horses  in  the 
outfit,  the  teams  for  the  heavy  wagons  all  being  oxen.  The 
guards  were  changed  at  one  o'clock,  and  at  daylight  all 
hands  were  routed  out  by  the  wagon  watch,  breakfast  pre- 
pared and  served,  and  by  a  little  after  sunrise  the  train 
was  on  the  move.  At  noon  a  stop  was  made  of  from  one 
to  two  hours,  but  the  cattle  were  not  generally  unyoked. 
Camp  was  made  at  night  according  to  the  distance  to  a 
good  camping  place — sometimes  as  early  as  four  o'clock 
and  sometimes  as  late  as  seven.  The  company  was  well 
organized  and  the  discipline  was  good.  There  was  no  Sun- 
day travel,  that  I  recollect,  on  the  first  part  of  the  journey. 
On  Sunday  the  oxen  were  allowed  to  feed  and  rest,  and 
generally  it  was  washing  day  in  camp. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  29 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Halted  by  a  Band  of  Pawnees  at  Shell  Creek — Pay  Toll  for 
crossing  the  creek — Cross  Loup  Fork  near  the  present 
site  of  Genoa. 

The  object  of  writing  this  personal  narrative  with  some 
minuteness  of  detail,  is  to  place  before  the  readers  as  clear 
a  view  as  may  be,  of  conditions  in  the  country  of  the  plains 
as  they  appeared  to  the  writer  in  the  year  1852,  or  two 
years  before  there  were  any  white  people  living  in  Nebraska, 
excepting  those  doing  either  military  or  missionary  duty 
or  engaged  in  trade  with  the  Indians  or  employed  by  the 
traders  as  hunters  and  trappers.  In  the  year  1852  Ne- 
braska was  Indian  country,  with  no  white  people  except- 
ing those  just  mentioned.  The  changes  that  have  taken 
place  since  that  time  are  astounding.  It  is  doubtful  if  any 
of  the  thousands  who  passed  along  up  the  valley  of  the 
Platte,  by  way  of  the  Overland  Trail,  in  the  year  1852  had 
the  very  faintest  thought  or  conception  of  what  was  to  fol- 
low in  so  short  a  time — the  transforming  of  a  wilderness 
filled  with  herds  of  buffalo  and  bands  of  roving  tribes  of 
Indians  as  wild  as  the  game  they  pursued  and  upon  which 
they  subsisted ;  into  a  magnificent  farming  country — the 
best  may  be  in  the  world ;  criss-crossed  with  railroads,  dot- 
ted with  thirving  and  growing  cities  and  villages,  covered 
with  contented  and  prosperous  communities  of  people,  who 
are  growing  rich  upon  the  products  of  a  soil  that  had  time 
and  again  been  pronounced  and  denounced  as  desert.  I  am 
not  expressing  merely  my  own  thoughts  which  I  held  at 
that  time  as  to  this  country  and  its  future,  but  the  thoughts 
and  opinions  of  others  as  far  as  I  heard  them  expressed. 
If  there  was  a  man  in  our  company  of  forty-two  men,  or 
if  among  the  thousands  who  in  1852  passed  over  the  2,800 


30  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

miles  from  the  Missouri  river  to  the  Willamette  valley  of 
Oregon,  who  thought  the  country  west  of  the  crossing  of 
the  Elkhorn  amounted  to  anything  or  would  ever  amount 
to  anything  as  a  farming  country,  I  do  not  remember  of 
his  speaking  of  it  in  my  presence.  The  prevailing,  prob- 
ably the  unanimous  opinion  was,  that  the  country  to  the 
Elkhorn  crossing  was  beautiful,  rich  and  fine.  West  of 
that  it  had  grass,  would  produce  pasture  and  hay  for  stock, 
and  might  some  day  be  used  for  that  purpose,  but  not  in 
the  near  future.  The  thought  was  that  there  were  better 
places — far  better,  than  the  flat,  treeless,  uninviting  valley 
of  the  Platte,  with  its  shallow,  muddy  river,  its  swarms  of 
mosquitoes  and  green  head  flies,  its  stretches  of  wet,  swampy 
ground,  its  prairie  dog  towns  and  its  rattle  snakes.  I  found 
out  afterward,  but  did  not  know  it  then,  that  prairie  dogs 
never  locate  where  the  soil  is  poor,  and  that  rattle  snakes 
always  abound  where  there  are  prairie  dogs,  for  the  young 
of  the  prairie  dogs  make  excellent  food  for  the  rattle  snakes. 
Just  seventeen  years  and  three  days  after  we  crossed 
the  Elkhorn,  June  1,  1852,  I  located  my  homestead  on 
Cedar  Creek,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  above  the  Elk- 
horn crossing,  in  what  afterwards  became  Antelope  county 
— I  am  not  dreaming — it  is  so. 

Had  we  left  the  valley  of  the  Platte  and  taken  time  to 
examine  the  low,  undulating  rolls  and  valleys  that  make 
up  the  highlands  between  the  Platte  valley  and  Maple 
creek,  to  the  north  of  Fremont  or  had  we  looked  over  the 
valley  of  Shell  creek  north  of  Columbus,  or  followed  up 
the  valley  of  the  Beaver  from  where  Genoa  now  stands, 
we  would  have  beheld  a  lovely  and  rich  country,  than  which 
there  is  no  better  in  Nebraska,  or  anywhere  else.  But  we 
did  not  do  this;  we  w^ere  cautioned  not  to  leave  the  trail, 
to  keep  together,  and  not  to  go  far  from  the  wagons,  and 
besides  there  was  no  time  for  investigation.  The  Indians 
were  thought  to  be  dangerous — some  of  them  were  in  sight 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  31 

from  the  wagons  most  of  the  time — there  were  only  two 
or  three  riding  horses  in  the  outfit,  and  one  could  not  go 
far  away  on  foot  and  rejoin  the  train  by  camping  time  even 
though  it  were  safe.  So  we  passed  through  the  country — 
that  is,  for  the  first  two  hundred  miles — without  seeing  it, 
and  formed  our  opinions  of  the  country  from  what  we  saw 
of  the  Platte  valley,  which  did  not  produce,  on  the  whole, 
a  favorable  impression.  From  reading  books  of  travel  and 
exploration,  and  from  talking  with  others,  we  had  gotten 
unfavorable  opinions  of  the  country  and  we  held  to  them. 
The  mosquitos  and  green  head  flies  did  not  bother  us  much 
at  first,  as  it  was  too  early  in  the  season,  but  they  got  bad 
later  on  wherever  there  was  wet  land  with  tall  grass.  Later 
in  the  season  the  buifalo  gnats  became  troublesome.  These 
buffalo  gnats  were  very  bad  also  here  in  Antelope  county 
for  several  years  after  its  first  settlement,  but  they  have 
probably  entirely  disappeared.  I  think  they  are  never  found 
in  a  thickly  settled  farming  country.  They  attack  the  eyes, 
ears  and  nose,  and  will  fly  right  into  one's  mouth  if  he  opens 
it.  They  are  especially  bad  about  attacking  horses  on  the 
breast  and  under  the  lower  jaw.  The  mosquitos  left  us 
entirely  after  we  entered  the  dry,  rolling  country  approach- 
ing the  mountains. 

As  we  neared  the  crossing  of  Shell  creek,  close  to 
where  Schuyler  now  stands,  Mr.  Knapp,  who  had  been 
riding  ahead,  came  back  and  reported  that  there  was  a  large 
number  of  Indians  at  Shell  creek  crossing.  Orders  were 
given  by  Capt.  Wells  to  halt  the  train,  and  all  the  men  were 
commanded  to  get  their  arms  ready  for  instant  use.  Ihe 
women  and  children,  many  of  whom  had  been  walking, 
were  ordered  into  the  wagons,  which  command  was  really 
not  necessary,  for  they  were  very  wiUing  to  get  under  cover, 
and  the  train  was  commanded  to  move  in  close  order  with 
guards  on  either  side.  We  were  in  the  Pawnee  country, 
and  the  Pawnees  at  that  time  did  not  have  a  good  reputa- 


32  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

tion.     I  do  not  now  think  there  was  a  particle  of  danger, 
but  we  were  looking*  for  it  then  and  to  some  extent  at  Ic^st, 
expecting  it.     My  cousin  and  I  were  both  with  our  team 
which  was  very  near  the  head  of  the  procession.     As  we 
came  to  Shell  creek  bridge  we  found  a  large  force  of  In- 
dians, mostly  on  horseback,  and  all  armed,  and  most  if  not 
all  painted.    They  had  bows  and  arrows  in  their  hands  and 
quivers,  filled  with  arrows,  hung  over  their  shoulders ;  some 
few  of  them  also  had  guns.    It  looked  warlike  the  way  they 
were  armed,  but  they  appeared  friendly.     As   I  came  up 
one  of  the  Indians  was  trying  to  talk  with  Mr.  Knapp,  who 
with  Capt.  Wells  and  three  or  four  of  the  guards  was  a 
little  in  advance  of  the  teams.     The  Indian  addressed  him- 
self to  Mr.  Knapp,  thinking  him  to  be  our  captain,  prob- 
ably because  he  was  on  horseback,  the  others  of  us  all  being 
on  foot.     The  Indian  handed  Mr.  Knapp  a  paper,  which, 
instead  of  reading  himself  he  passed   directly  to  me.     It 
was  written  in  a  very  plain,  nice  hand  and  stated  that  the 
bearer,  giving  his  name  which  I  have  forgotten,  was  the 
head  chief  of  the  Pawnees  and  that  it  would  be  to  the  in- 
terest of  the  emigrants  to  treat  him  with  consideration  and 
respect.    After  reading  it  aloud  to  those  present,  I  was  asked 
by  Mr.  Knapp  to  try  and  see  if  I  could  make  out  what  he 
wanted.    I  had  lived  for  several  years  within  a  mile  of  about 
a  dozen  families  of  Chippewa  Indians,  had  played  with  and 
gone  to  school  with  the  children,  and  could  speak  Chippewa 
fairly  well,  and  also  knew  something  of  the  sign  language. 
My  knowledge  of  Chippewa  did  no  good,  but  by  signs  we 
managed  to  come  to  an  understanding.     The  chief  claimed 
that  the  Pawnees  had  built  the  bridge  over  the  creek,  and 
wanted  pay  for  crossing — he  made  signs  of  planting  corn, 
and  wanted  his  pay  in  corn.     There  was  doubt  expressed 
about  the  Indians  having  built  the  bridge,  although  I  be- 
lieve personally  that  the  chief  told  the  truth  about  it.    How- 
ever it  was  decided  to  pay  toll  in  corn.     Accordingly  the 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  33 

Indians  placed  a  skin  on  the  ground,   and  three  or   four 
bushels  of  shelled  corn  were  brought  from  the  wagons  and 
piled  upon  the  skin.     The  chief  said  in  English,     ''Heap 
Squaw"  meaning  there  were  plenty  of  squaws  to  do  the  plant-- 
ing,  and  made  signs  for  more  corn.    The  pile  was  increased 
to  five  or  six  bushels,  which  seemed  to  satisfy  him,  and 
opening  up  the  ranks  of  his  warriors  he  allowed  us  to  pro- 
ceed, after  shaking  hands  with  Knapp  and  myself,  and  re- 
peating two  or  three  times  ''Heap  good  man,"  "Heap  good 
man."    These  two  phrases  "Heap  Squaw"  and  "Heap  good 
man,"  probably  comprised  all  his  knowledge  of  English — 
at  least  it  was  all  he  made  use  of  during  the  interview.   The 
chief  did  not  shake  hands  at  parting  with  any  except  Mr. 
Knapp  and  myself,  probably  supposing  that  Knapp  was  in 
command  because  he  was  on  horseback,  and  that  I  was  his 
lieutenant,  because  Knapp  handed  me  the  note  to  read.     I 
never  knew  why  Mr.  Knapp  passed  the  note  to  me,  but  I 
always  suspected  he  was  just  enough  scared  to  be  a  little 
beside  himself.    I  made  no  attempt  to  count  the  Indians  or 
estimate  their  numbers,  but  some  who  did,  said  there  were 
about  three  hundred — probably  one  hundred  would  be  more 
nearly  correct.     A  bad  mistake  was  made  by  Capt.  Wells 
in  permitting  the  teams  to  remain  in  line  in  charge  of  the 
drivers,  provided  he  thought  the  Indians  meant  to  be  hos- 
tile.    The  wagons  should  have  been  parked,  and  prepara- 
tions made  for  defense,  and  only  two  or  three  should  have 
gone  out  to  meet  the  Indians.     It  was  the  only  time  on  the 
whole  trip  that  we  were  stopped  by  Indians,  or  that  there 
was  the  least  appearance  of  hostility,  and  the  only  signs  of 
hostility  this  time  were  that  the  Indians  were  fully  armed, 
there  were  no  squaws  with  them,  and  they  blocked  the  road 
to  the  bridge.    The  bridge  was  made  of  willow  poles  placed 
across  the  creek  for  stringers,  covered  with  smaller  willow 
poles,  brush  and  sods.    It  was  a  slimsy  affair,  and  teetered 


34  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

up  and  down  when  we  crossed  it  like  a  teeter  board,  but 
it  carried  us  safely  over. 

Leaving  Shell  creek  we  passed  on  up  the  valley,  going 
directly  through  the  place  where  Columbus  now  stands,  and 
following  on  up  the  north  side  of  Loup  Fork  near  to  the 
present  site  of  Genoa.  We  camped  over  night  on  the  north 
bank  of  the  Loup,  and  began  to  make  preparations  fo  ford 
the  stream  the  next  day.  The  Loup,  like  the  Platte,  is  a 
bad  stream  to  ford,  the  bottom  being  all  quick  sand,  and 
the  current  rapid.  There  were  two  or  three  men  sent  afoot 
across  and  back  in  different  places  to  ascertain  the  depth 
and  to  find  the  best  place  to  ford.  It  seemed  about  all  alike 
everywhere.  The  bottom  was  all  sand,  the  water  shallow, 
being  from  a  few  inches  to  about  a  foot,  excepting  in  the 
main  channel  where  for  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  the  water 
was  from  two  to  three  feet  deep,  but  there  the  bottom  was 
better.  There  was  considerable  timber  along  the  river  here, 
and  Cottonwood  poles  seven  or  eight  inches  thick  were  cut 
and  placed  lengthwise  under  the  wagon  boxes  so  as  to  raise 
them  above  where  the  water  would  come.  From  eight  to 
ten  yoke  of  oxen  were  hitched  to  each  wagon  with  two 
drivers  for  each  team  .  The  crossing  was  made  without 
difficulty,  but  it  took  the  most  of  the  day.  I  helped  to  take 
eight  wagons  across  and  in  doing  it  waded  the  river  fifteen 
times.  Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  a  strong  wind 
came  up  from  the  northwest  and  it  turned  very  cold  for 
that  time  of  year,  just  as  Nebraska  weather  has  not  forgot- 
ten to  do  in  early  summer,  even  of  recent  years.  It  was  a 
chilly,  disagreeable  camp ;  although  there  was  plenty  of  tim- 
ber, it  consisted  almost  entirely  of  green  cottonwood,  the 
dry  wood  having  been  used  up  by  previous  campers. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  35 


CHAPTER  V. 

From  Loup   Fork  to   Wood   River — Buffalo   Chips — Lone 
Tree — The  first  Buffalo  hunt— Flagging  Antelope. 

After  crossing  Loup  Fork,  we  went  on,  the  next  morn- 
ing, in  a  southwest  direction,  over  a  low,  sandy  divide, 
again  striking  the  Platte  valley  at  or  near  the  present  town 
of  Clarks,  in  Merrick  county,  crossing  on  the  way  Prairie 
creek,  which  is  a  small  sluggish  stream  abounding  in  sloughs 
and  wet  land.  This  creek,  unlike  most  of  the  streams  trib- 
utary to  the  Platte,  does  not  take  its  rise  in  the  hills  but 
drains  the  great  flat  country  north  of  Clarks,  Central  City, 
and  Chapman,  in  Merrick  county,  and  north  of  Grand  Island, 
in  Hall  county.  Here  the  Platte  bottom  is  very  wide,  so 
that  the  hills  on  the  north  side  could  not  be  seen  often,  if 
at  all  from  the  trail,  but  south  across  the  Platte  river  they 
were  in  plain  view.  Wood  for  camp  fires  now  became  very 
scarce — in  fact  there  was  none,  excepting  little  willows  not 
larger  than  one's  finger,  and  even  these  were  not  plentiful. 
We  therefore  had  to  depend  on  the  bois  de  vache  (Hterally 
wood  of  cow),  as  it  was  called  by  the  Canadian  hunters 
and  trappers  but  which  in  plain  blunt  English  was  trans- 
lated buffalo  chips.  This  material  had  been  dropped  by  the 
millions  on  millions  of  buffalo  that  ranged  all  over  our  Ne- 
braska prairies  at  that  date  and  when  cured  by  lying  in  the 
sun  and  wind  for  a  year  or  two,  and  when  perfectly  dry, 
made  a  passably  good  fire.  It  did  not  burn  like  dry  willow 
or  ash  brush,  with  a  quick,  bright  blaze,  but  slowly  and  al- 
most without  flame,  like  sawdust  or  wood  so  rotten  and 
decayed  as  to  fall  all  to  pieces.  It  produced  considerable 
heat  and  did  very  well  for  cooking,  but  made  a  poor  camp- 
fire  to  sit  by  in  the  evening.  It  had  to  be  perfectly  dry  to 
burn  at  all,  and  it  was  amusing  whenever  there  were  signs 


36  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

of  an  approaching  shower  to  see  the  men  strike  out  from 
the  wagons,  each  one  provided  with  a  sack  to  gather  up  a 
supply  of  dry  buffalo  chips  for  use  at  the  next  camp.  It 
was  not  necessary  to  carry  a  supply  along  in  dry  weather, 
because  it  was  found  in  incredible  quantities  everywhere  on 
the  prairie.  The  emigration  this  year,  1852,  was  very  large, 
and  in  fact  it  had  been  quite  large  every  year  since  1843. 
so  that  at  camping  places  where  there  was  timber,  all  the 
dry  wood  had  been  used  up,  but  no  impression  whatever 
had  been  made  on  the  buffalo  chips,  except  in  the  immed- 
iate vicinity  of  favorite  camping  grounds,  and  even  there 
it  was  plentiful  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  camp. 
When  it  is  called  to  mind  that  this  was  the  condition  every- 
where on  the  Nebraska  prairies  in  the  vicinity  of  living 
water  where  the  buffalo  came  to  drink,  one  may  form  a 
faint  idea  of  the  incredible  numbers  of  these  wild  native 
cattle  that  once  roamed  all  over  the  land  that  we  have  now 
appropriated  to  ourselves,  pasturing  and  growing  fat  upon 
the  wild  grasses  that  grew  and  flourished  in  a  land  that  had 
been  named  a  desert,  and  of  which  Washington  Irving,  in 
his  Astoria,  among  many  other  dreadful  things,  has  this 
to  say:  *Tt  spreads  forth  into  undulating  and  treeless 
plains  and  desolate  and  sandy  wastes,  wearisome  to  the  eye 
from  their  extent  and  monotony,  and  which  are  supposed 
by  geologists  to  have  formed  the  ancient  floor  of  the  ocean, 
countless  ages  since  when  its  primeval  waves  beat  against 
the  granite  bases  of  the  Rocky  mountains.  It  is  a  land 
where  no  man  permanently  abides;  for  in  certain  seasons 
of  the  year  there  is  no  food  for  the  hunter  or  his  steed.  The 
herbage  is  parched  and  withered ;  the  brooks  and  streams 
are  dried  up;  the  buffalo,  the  elk,  and  the  deer  have  wan- 
dered to  distant  parts  keeping  within  the  verge  of  expiring 
verdure  and  leaving  behind  them  a  vast  uninhabited  soli- 
tude, seamed  by  ravines,  the  beds  of  former  torrents,  but 
now  serving  only  to  tantalize  and  increase  the  thirst  of  the 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  37 

traveler."  Page  on  page  could  be  quoted  from  authors, 
many  of  them  prominent,  similar  to  the  quotation  given 
above.  Even  Horace  Greeley,  as  observant  and  practical  a 
man  as  he  was,  speaking  of  his  trip  to  Colorado  by  stage 
after  gold  had  been  discovered  at  Pikes  Peak,  in  articles 
prepared  by  himself  and  pubhshed  in  the  New  York  Tribune, 
said  substantially  as  follows:  "This  country  will  not  or 
cannot  be  used  for  farming  until  nature  by  its  slow  process 
has  pulverized  the  soil,  and  dissolved  it  into  finer  particles, 
so  that  it  can  sustain  and  support  plant  growth."  This  is 
not  his  language  exactly,  for  that  has  been  forgotten,  but 
it  is  exactly  the  thought  as  I  read  it  myself  in  the  Tribune ; 
and  yet  Horace  Greeley  as  he  passed  over  the  route  could 
see  with  his  own  eyes  the  rich  buffalo,  gramma  and  other 
grasses,  the  dried  excrement  dropped,  and  the  trails  made 
by  the  millions  of  these  wild  cattle  of  the  plains.  How 
could  a  country  be  thought  to  be  a  desert,  when  at  that  very 
time  it  was  pasturing  wild  cattle  that  greatly  exceeded  in 
number  all  the  tame  cattle  of  the  United  States?  I  want 
to  make  all  these  things  plain  to  our  young  people  of  Ante- 
lope county  today — I  want  them  to  see  and  know  just  how 
things  were,  and  just  how  they  were  regarded,  and  that  is 
the  excuse,  if  excuse  is  needed,  for  dwelling  upon  these 
things.  But  besides  the  buffalo,  there  were  millions  of  elk, 
deer  and  antelope  all  feeding  upon  the  grasses  of  our  prair- 
ies ;  but  this  will  be  taken  up  in  a  subsequent  article. 

There  was  in  our  company  a  guide  book,  which  de- 
scribed the  route,  telling  of  the  best  camping  places  where 
wood  and  water  could  be  found,  and  giving  the  distances 
from  one  noted  point  to  another.  This  guide  book  claimed 
that  the  route  had  been  measured  by  an  odometer,  an  in- 
strument attached  to  a  wagon  wheel  and  so  constructed  as 
to  record  the  revolutions  of  the  wheel.  Hence  by  multiply- 
ing the  number  of  revolutions  by  the  measurement  around 
the  circumference  of  the  wheel  ,the  distance  traveled  could 


38  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

easily  be  obtained.  It  was  from  this  guide  book  that  we 
ascertained  that  it  was  2800  miles  from  the  crossing  of  the 
Missouri  river  to  Oregon  City,  Oregon.  This  guide  book 
mentioned  among  other  noted  objects  along  the  route  Lone 
Tree.  This  tree  was  a  single  large  cottonwood  very  near 
Central  City,  Merrick  county.  It  was  a  prominent  land 
mark,  standing  alone,  between  the  trail  and  the  river  Platte, 
and  was  the  only  tree  in  sight  for  many  miles.  At  that  time 
it  was  apparently  partly  decayed,  although  I  did  not  leave 
the  trail  to  examine  it.  Central  City  was  at  first  called  Lone 
Tree,  and  it  seems  to  me  a  mistake  that  the  name  was 
changed.  Lone  Tree  has  a  definite  meaning,  and  a  history, 
and  the  name  should  have  been  perpetuated.  The  tree  has 
lived  its  day,  done  its  allotted  task  and  gone  to  decay.  Where 
it  stood  a  monument  has  recently  been  erected  to  commem- 
orate the  fact  that  for  many  years  it  was  a  beacon  marking 
the  way  westward,  to  the  pioneers  who  were  making  the 
toilsome  journey  overland  to  people  the  countries  of  the 
'Pacific  coast. 

Soon  after  passing  the  place  where  Grand  Island  now 
is,  we  began  to  see  the  caravans  of  white  topped  wagons 
that  were  following  the  trail  on  the  south  side  of  the  river, 
but  could  hold  no  communication  with  them,  for  the  wide 
stream  always  flowed  between  us  and  them  and  generally 
there  was  a  mile  or  so  of  intervening  land,  for  the  road 
very  seldom  followed  along  the  immediate  bank  of  the 
river.  We  also  met  from  time  to  time  people  returning  from 
California,  Oregon  or  Utah,  to  the  states,  and  once  or  twice 
we  met  companies  of  returning  trappers.  All  these  people 
were  traveling  on  horseback,  carrying  their  effects  on  pack 
horses.  I  do  not  think  we  met  a  wagon  at  all.  These  all 
told  us  that  we  would  probably  see  no  more  Indians  until 
we  neared  Ft.  Laramie  where  there  would  be  plenty  of 
Sioux — that  we  need  have  no  fears  of  the  Indians  attack- 
ing us,  or  doing  us  any  harm  whatever  unless  to  steal  our 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  39 

liorses,  which  they  would  do  if  they  got  a  chance — that  the 
Indians  did  not  want  our  cattle  and  had  no  use  for  them — 
that  there  were  plenty  of  buffalo  which  were  fatter  and 
better  than  the  cattle,  and  which  the  Indians  preferred.  We 
were  cautioned  not  to  let  the  horses  straggle  away  from 
camp,  and  to  secure  them  at  night.  We  were  told  to  use 
always  the  water  of  the  Platte  river  or  of  some  pure  running 
stream,  and  never  to  drink  the  water  from  shallow  wells. 
It  is  proper  to  explain  that  we  had  often  found  wells  that 
had  been  dug  where  the  ground  was  low,  whenever  the  road 
was  far  from  the  river.  These  wells  were  from  four  to  six 
or  eight  feet  deep,  and  contained  a  foot  or  two  of  water. 
We  had  not  often  used  any  of  this  well  water  because  our 
guide  books  had  cautioned  against  it. 

About  this  time  there  was  a  change  made  in  the  plan 
of  camping.  The  wagons  were  still  drawn  up  in  the  form 
of  a  circle  on  forming  camp  for  the  night,  and  at  about 
nine  o'clock  the  few  horses  belonging  to  the  train  were 
either  brought  inside  and  secured,  or  tethered  with  picket 
ropes  near  by  outside  of  the  circle  of  the  wagons,  but  no 
guard  was  placed  over  the  camp.  The  cattle  were  driven 
quite  a  distance  from  the  camp  to  some  place  where  the 
grass  was  good  and  watched  by  the  guards  until  they  quit 
feeding  and  began  to  lie  down,  when  the  guards  too  lay 
down  with  the  cattle  and  went  to  sleep.  The  cattle  guard 
from  this  time  on  was  not  changed  during  the  night  but  re- 
mained with  the  cattle  all  night,  bringing  them  in  soon 
after  sunrise.  By  the  time  the  guards  came  with  the  cattle 
breakfast  was  over  ,and  while  the  men  were  yoking  up  the 
oxen  and  preparing  to  break  camp,  the  guards  ate  their 
breakfast  which  had  been  kept  warm  for  them.  The  people 
of  our  train  were  having  a  pretty  good  time.  There  had 
been  no  sickness  nor  accidents,  there  was  no  prospect  of 
any  trouble  with  the  Indians,  and  the  fear  of  them  had 
about  all  subsided,  the  weather  was  nearly  always  pleas- 


40  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ant,  there  not  having  been  any  rain  except  Hght  showers 
since  our  camp  at  the  Little  PapiUion  the  first  day  out  from 
Sarpy's  Landing,  and  excepting  a  few  wet  swaly  spots, 
and  a  few  miles  of  sand  between  the  Loup  crossing  and 
the  Platte,  the  road  had  been  excellent.  Discipline,  there- 
fore, was  very  properly  relaxed,  and  the  men  whose  duties 
did  not  keep  them  with  or  near  the  train  were  permitted  to 
ramble  wherever  or  whenever  they  pleased.  Game  was  not 
yet  plentiful — no  buffalo  had  been  seen  nor  heard  of,  and 
the  men  whom  we  had  met  coming  from  the  west  reported 
that  there  would  probably  no  buffalo  be  seen  until  after 
passing  Ft.  Laramie.  There  were  antelope  in  sight  every 
day,  but  they  were  wild  and  we  did  not  get  any  of  them — 
there  were  prairie  chickens,  and  jack  rabbits  but  not  yet 
for  us.  The  only  thing  we  could  find  to  vary  the  bill  of 
fare  from  biscuit,  pancakes,  corn  bread,  beans,  rice  and 
bacon  or  ham,  was  wild  onions ;  these  were  plentiful  and 
we  gathered  them  as  often  as  needed.  Not  many  miles  west 
of  where  Grand  Island  now  is  the  trail  struck  Wood  river, 
which  is  a  beautiful  stream  about  half  as  large  as  the  Elk- 
horn,  but  without  any  of  the  low,  sandy  bottoms  or  flats 
that  prevail  along  the  Elkhorn  river.  The  country  now 
looked  very  fine  along  Wood  river  and  pleased  us  all  nearly 
as  well  as  did  the  country  east  of  the  Elkhorn  crossing. 
My  cousin  and  I  took  turns  in  driving,  each  having  a  day 
on  and  a  day  off.  We  must  have  been  at  this  time  near 
the  east  line  of  Buffalo  county  in  the  vicinity  of  the  present 
village  of  Shelton.  I  had  not  as  yet  left  the  trail  to  go  any 
distance  away  and  had  been  just  spoiling  for  a  week  or  two 
for  something  exciting.  As  the  trail  would  follow  along  up 
Wood  river  on  the  north  side  for  some  distance  before  cross- 
ing, a  young  man  about  my  age  and  who  felt  just  about 
as  I  did,  got  permission  with  me  to  go  on  a  hunt  to  the 
north  of  the  trail,  and  to  turn  west  and  meet  the  train 
some  time  in  the  afternoon  or  at  any  rate  not  later  than 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  41 

camping  time  in  the  evening.  After  having  been  admon- 
ished over  and  over  again,  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  train, 
to  be  careful  and  not  get  lost  or  run  into  danger,  and  not 
to  be  out  after  dark,  we  started  northwest,  and  for  three 
or  four  miles  could  see  not  only  our  own  train  but  two  or 
three  others  also ;  crawling  along  at  a  snail's  gait  by  the 
side  of  Wood  river  which  could  be  traced  by  its  line  of 
bushes  and  small  trees.  The  prairie  over  which  we  traveled 
was  fine,  thickly  covered  with  grass  just  high  enough  to 
wave  nicely  in  the  wind,  prominent  among  which  was  the 
wild  blue  stem,  although  I  did  not  then  know  the  names 
of  any  of  the  wild  prairie  grasses;  and  there  were  also  the 
spider  lillies  in  great  abundance,  and  other  wild  spring  flow- 
ers common  to  our  Nebraska  prairies.  The  day  was  fine  and 
I  was  happy.  There  were  antelope  in  sight  nearly  all  the 
time,  but  they  were  shy  and  cunning,  and  knew  just  how 
near  to  approach,  and  just  when  to  raise  the  long  white 
hairs  on  the  rump,  which  they  do  when  alarmed,  and  bound 
away  as  if  they  had  steel  springs  in  their  feet.  We  had 
heard  about  flagging  antelope,  and  we  tried  it.  We  tied 
a  red  handkerchief  on  a  ram  rod,  and  lay  flat  down  raising 
and  waving  the  flag,  and  tried  it  over  and  over  again — the 
antelope  would  come  up  within  about  forty  rods,  stop  and 
gaze,  run  off,  circle  around  and  come  up  on  the  other  side, 
then  bound  away  again.  It  was  of  no  use — there  was  no 
chance  to  get  antelope  steak  for  supper.  We  gave  it  up. 
Just  north  of  us  a  short  distance  was  a  little  gentle  swell 
in  the  prairie — we  reached  the  top,  looked  over  to  a  little 
valley  through  which  meandered  a  prairie  brook,  lined  here 
and  there  with  a  few  large  handsome  elm  trees,  and  there, 
feeding  not  more  than  a  half  mile  away  were  two  buffalo. 
We  were  surprised,  not  to  say  astonished,  for  we  had  been 
told  that  there  were  no  buffalo  anywhere  near  the  trail  at 
that  point  or  at  that  season  of  the  year.  We  were  now  al- 
most sure  of  buffalo  steak  for  breakfast  next  morning.     It 


42  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

was  easy  to  approach  them  for  the  wind  was  favorable  and 
there  were  trees  for  shelter,  and  not  far  from  the  place 
where  the  buffalo  were  feeding  was  a  large  elm  log  for 
cover.  After  winding  about  to  keep  behind  the  cover  of 
the  trees,  we  finally  crawled  on  hands  and  knees  to  the  elm 
log,  made  ready,  counted  three  and  fired,  both  shots  falling 
short.  We  were  not  used  to  estimating  distance  on  the 
prairie,  and  our  rifles  were  of  Hght  caliber.  The  buffalo 
looked  up  in  a  wondering,  surprised  sort  of  way  gazing  at 
the  smoke  of  our  rifles,  sniffed  the  air,  and  then  started  off 
in  a  heavy,  lumbering  sort  of  gallop,  and  before  we  could 
reload  were  over  the  next  rise  of  ground  out  of  sight.  We 
did  not  have  buffalo  steak  for  breakfast,  but  we  did  have 
a  good  time  and  a  good  appetite  for  supper.  However,  some 
time  after  we  had  buffalo  meat  in  plenty,  but  this  will  be 
told  later  on. 

Note — Surprise  has  often  been  expressed  at  the  scarcity  of  game  along  the  entire  route 
of  the  Trail.  This  scarcity  is  easily  explained.  There  was  abundance  of  game  at  no 
great  distance,  but  it  was  frightened  away  from  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  route,  by 
the  sight  and  scent  of  the  constant  stream  of  wagons,  people  and  stock  traversing  the 
road. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  43 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  journey  up  the  Platte  Valley — Hunting  Mountain  Sheep 
—Talk  With  a  Sioux  Indian— The  Buffalo  Hunt. 

As  the  trail  passed  on  up  the  Platte  valley  to  the  west, 
the  country  began  to  change  in  appearance — the  valley  be- 
came gradually  narrower,  and  the  hills  bounding  it  on 
either  side  became  high,  rough  and  bluffy  in  form — the  ele- 
vation was  greater,  the  air  rarer  and  drier,  and  there  were 
no  rains  excepting  brief  showers  which  were  generally  ac- 
companied with  a  good  deal  of  thunder  and  lightning.  The 
scenery  grew  more  and  more  interesting  as  the  western  part 
of  the  state  was  reached,  and  Court  House  Rock,  Chimney 
Rock  and  Scotts  Bluff  came  one  after  the  other  into  view. 

Grass  became  less  abundant  as  the  train  progressed 
toward  the  west,  although  there  was  always  plenty  of  it 
found  by  going  some  distance  away  from  the  camping 
grounds.  Camp  was  always  made  where  there  was  water, 
and  if  possible  where  there  was  wood  also.  If  there  was 
no  wood  there  was  always  the  substitute  mentioned  in  a 
previous  chapter.  At  one  time  when  we  had  toiled  along 
all  day  up  hill  and  down,  for  we  had  left  the  level  valley  of 
the  Platte — the  country  being  quite  hilly,  rough  and  broken, 
but  the  road  though  hilly  was  not  bad,  but  was  hard  and 
smooth  almost  as  a  rock — it  had  clouded  up,  and  showed 
signs  of  a  storm  as  we  made  camp.  Mr.  Knapp  had  gone 
on  ahead  with  the  pony  and  selected  a  good  camping  place, 
and  about  a  mile  from  camp  had  found  good  pasture  for 
the  oxen,  for  it  was  all  eaten  off  near  the  camping  ground. 
It  was  my  turn  to  go  out  with  the  cattle  and  stay  with  them 
all  night,  and  Jolly  was  to  be  my  companion  on  guard. 
Jolly  was  an  Englishman,  and  a  very  good  fellow,  but  he 
had  some  ways  and  traits  that  were  not  agreeable.    His  name 


44  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

was  Jolly,  but  that  was  not  his  nature — he  always  had  a 
grouch.  Mr.  Knapp  and  another  man  drove  the  herd  out 
to  the  pasture  ground  as  soon  as  the  oxen  were  unyoked, 
while  Jolly  and  I  remained  to  eat  supper  before  going-.  We 
reached  the  cattle  just  as  it  was  getting  dark  and  had  some 
trouble  in  keeping  them  from  wandering  off,  as  there  was 
a  strong,  cold  wind  from  the  west  and  the  weather  was  be- 
coming disagreeable.  A  big  black  cloud  was  coming  up 
and  there  were  sharp  flashes  of  lighting  with  heavy  thun- 
der, and  a  little  rain.  Although  it  rained  scarcely  enough 
to  wet  us,  what  little  rain  there  was  felt  as  cold  as  ice. 
Finally  the  cattle  became  partly  quieted  down  and  Jolly 
undertook  to  build  a  fire,  the  very  thing  which  he  could  not 
do.  I  tried  to  get  him  to  let  me  do  it,  but  he  said  "No! 
You  watch  the  dom  cattle.  I'll  build  the  fire."  Finally  he 
gave  up  after  using  most  of  his  matches  and  called  for  me 
to  try  my  hand  at  it.  That  was  one  thing  I  could  always 
do,  to  build  a  fire  under  almost  any  circumstances  when 
camping  out.  I  got  some  large  sage  brush,  of  which  there 
was  plenty,  whittled  off  a  good  lot  of  dry  shavings,  got 
Jolly  to  get  down  on  his  knees  and  spread  out  his  overcoat 
as  a  wind  shield,  and  used  one  match  only.  The  next  morn- 
ing was  bright  and  cold,  and  the  Rocky  mountains,  streaked 
with  broad  white  patches  of  snow  were  in  plain  sight  for 
the  first  time,  sixty  miles  away  to  the  west.  No  wonder  it 
was  a  cold  rain — it  came  right  down  from  the  snowy  moun- 
tains. 

We  saw  no  Indians  after  leaving  Loup  Fork  until 
within  about  a  day's  drive  of  Ft.  Laramie,  Wyoming.  I  was 
out  hunting  one  day  when  we  were  about  twenty  miles  or 
so  east  of  Ft.  Laramie,  trying  to  get  a  shot  at  some  mountain 
sheep.  The  hills  were  high  and  very  steep  and  rough;  I 
had  come  in  sight  of  the  game  several  times,  but  always 
they  had  gone  to  the  top  of  some  high,  steep  bluff,  from 
the  summit  of  which  they  would  stand  on  the  edge  of  a 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  45 

steep  precipice  and  gaze  down  at  me.  Finally  I  determined 
to  climb  the  bluff  on  which  there  was  a  flock  of  six  or  eight, 
and  try  and  outwit  them  and  get  a  shot.  Going  away  off 
some  distance  to  the  west  among  the  low  rolls  at  the  foot 
of  the  bluff,  and  keeping  out  of  sight  as  I  supposed,  I  ap- 
proached the  hills  again  from  another  side  where  it  was 
not  so  steep,  and  carefully  climbing  up  probably  eight  or 
nine  hundred  feet,  reached  the  summit  after  a  good  deal  of 
hard  work,  to  find  that  the  game  had  gone  down  on  the 
other  side,  crossed  a  deep,  rough  valley  and  now  stood  gaz- 
ing at  me  from  the  top  of  another  bluff  of  equal  height, 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Making  up  my  mind  that 
I  was  not  a  mountain  sheep  hunter — a  thing  I  ought  to  have 
known  before — I  gave  it  up  and  started  for  camp.  Just  as 
I  got  to  the  foot  of  the  bluff  I  saw  an  Indian  at  some  dis- 
tance away  who  had  no  doubt  been  watching  my  perform- 
ances and  laughing  to  himself  about  them,  and  who  beck- 
oned me  to  wait.  I  sat  down  on  a  rock  until  he  came  up. 
He  was  armed  with  a  very  poor  kind  of  light,  single  shot 
gun,  called  a  fusee.  We  shook  hands  and  sat  down  to  talk 
and  get  acquainted.  He  told  me  he  was  a  Sioux — that  there 
was  lots  of  Sioux  near  by,  pointing  to  the  west  and  north- 
west, and  making  signs  that  they  were  in  camp  with  their 
families  and  teepees.  The  only  word  spoken  that  I  could 
understand  was  Sioux,  but  he  made  his  talk  plain  by  signs. 
We  had  quite  a  long  friendly  chat  together,  and  as  he  said 
he  was  out  of  powder,  I  gave  him  on  parting  several  charges 
of  powder  and  some  bullets,  and  we  shook  hands  and  parted 
good  friends.  On  reaching  camp  I  found  my  friends  very 
uneasy  for  my  safety,  as  there  had  been  several  mounted 
Indians  at  the  camp,  and  others  were  seen  at  a  distance. 
We  camped  a  day  on  the  north  side  of  the  river  about  a 
mile  from  the  fort.  The  Indians  were  all  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river  but  many  of  them  came  over,  bringing 
buffalo  robes,  dressed  deer  skins  and  moccasins  to  trade. 


46  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

My  cousin  and  I  both  traded  for  moccasions,  and  it  was 
lucky  we  did  as  our  shoes  would  not  have  lasted  through 
to  the  end  of  the  journey. 

If  you  will  examine  a  map  of  Wyoming,  you  will  find 
that  a  few  miles  west  of  Casper  the  Platte  river  makes  a 
big  bend,  coming  at  that  point  almost  from  the  south,  and 
then  turning  abruptly  to  the  east.  Just  as  this  elbow  of 
the  river  we  camped  for  several  days  to  hunt  buffalo  and 
to  cure  the  meat.  Game  had  been  scarce  and  wild  all  the 
way  so  far.  There  were  plenty  of  antelope,  but  that  was 
the  only  kind  of  large  game  excepting  that  there  were 
mountain  sheep  after  we  reached  the  rough  country,  but 
we  got  no  sheep,  and  very  few  antelope.  Occasionally  we 
caught  a  catfish  in  the  Platte,  and  also  got  a  very  few  ducks, 
chickens  and  rabbits.  At  this  elbow  of  the  Platte  there  were 
some  very  high  hills,  their  steep  shelving  sides  streaked  with 
red.  These  were  called  the  Red  Buttes.  Just  at  the  foot 
of  these  buttes  there  were  some  very  large,  cold  springs — 
there  was  also  plenty  of  good,  cold  water  in  the  Platte, 
which  had  now  lost  its  muddy  character  and  quick  sand 
bottom,  and  instead  had  clear  water  and  a  rock  bottom.  We 
heard  from  other  campers  who  had  been  hunting  and  curing 
meat  ,that  buffalo  were  plenty  just  across  the  river  only  a 
few  miles  from  the  camp.  Next  morning  all  the  men  who 
could  be  spared  and  who  wanted  to  go,  started  on  a  buffalo 
hunt.  Only  a  few  had  horses,  nearly  all  going  on  foot,  t 
went  alone  from  choice,  and  it  is  only  what  happened  to 
myself  and  Jolly,  whom  I  came  across  later  in  the  day,  that 
can  here  be  related.  I  first  went  about  a  mile  up  the  river 
along  the  foot  of  Red  Bluffs,  stopping  to  examine  several 
big  springs  one  of  which,  icy  cold,  flowed  right  out  from 
under  the  largest  one  of  the  Red  Buttes,  in  a  stream  half 
as  large  as  Cedar  creek  at  the  crossing  north  of  Oakdale. 
Taking  off  all  my  clothing,  packing  it  up  in  a  bundle  and 
tying  it  on  my  shoulders,  I  waded  the  river,  holding  my 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  47 

gun  and  powder  horn  above  my  head.  The  water  was 
swift,  cold  and  almost  up  to  my  arms  in  one  place,  and 
the  stony  bottom  being  rough  and  slippery,  I  came  near 
being  taken  off  my  feet,  but  made  the  crossing  all  right, 
put  on  my  clothing  and  walked  to  a  hill  about  a  mile  away, 
from  the  top  of  which  I  expected  to  see  buffalo,  but  none 
were  in  sight.  Turning  back  I  recrossed  the  river  and 
climbed  the  highest  of  the  Red  Buttes,  from  the  top  of  which 
I  thought  I  could  see  a  good  many  black  specks  away  to 
the  southeast  but  if  buffalo,  which  was  probable,  they  were 
too  far  away  for  me  to  hunt  on  foot.  Nearby,  however,  to 
the  west,  and  probably  not  more  than  a  mile  from  the  hill 
on  which  I  stood  were  two  buffalo  quietly  feeding,  and  close 
by  right  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  w^as  Jolly.  I  hurried  down, 
met  Jolly  and  told  him  what  I  had  seen.  We  went  after 
the  two  buffalo,  being  very  careful  to  keep  out  of  sight,  and 
coming  up  to  them  so  that  the  wind  was  in  our  favor,  we 
easily  got  up  within  seventy-five  steps  of  them.  Remem- 
bering my  ill  success  at  Wood  river,  where  we  saw  the  first 
buffalo,  we  meant  to  make  sure  of  these.  We  both  agreed 
to  shoot  at  the  buffalo  nearest,  which  was  a  big  fellow 
standing  broad  side,  and  apparently  unsuspicious  of  danger. 
At  the  count  of  three  we  both  fired,  one  of  the  bullets  break- 
ing the  fore  leg  above  the  knee.  Our  guns  were  too  light 
for  such  game,  and  had  not  the  fore  leg  been  broken,  doubt- 
less he  would  have  carried  away  the  lead  from  both  shots, 
and  we  would  have  lost  him.  He  could  scarcely  run  at  all, 
he  was  so  bulky  and  heavy,  and  after  following  the  other 
a  short  distance  he  turned  aside,  and  lay  down  in  a  small, 
steep  ravine.  As  soon  as  we  could  reload  I  started  on  the 
run  after  the  wounded  buffalo  but  Jolly  called  out  "Hold 
on,  young  man,  hold  on,  something  has  happened  to  my 
gun."  But  the  young  man  did  not  hold  on — he  kept  right 
on  after  the  game,  which  was  soon  overtaken.  The  wound- 
ed buffalo  was  lying  in  the  bottom  of  a  dry  creek  under  a 


48  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

cut  bank  that  was  probably  eight  feet  high,  and  taking  in 
the  surroundings  at  a  glance,  I  came  up  right  over  him  on 
top  of  the  cut  bank.  He  gave  a  snort  and  a  deep,  hoarse 
bellow  and  getting  on  to  his  three  feet  began  to  hook  the 
cut  bank,  throwing  the  clay  all  over  his  back.  I  knew  he 
could  not  get  at  me  without  going  up  or  down  the  ravine 
several  rods,  and  so  I  stood  and  watched  him  a  little  while 
— he  was  mad  and  awful  savage.  I  then  shot  him  in  the 
head  and  he  fell  to  the  ground  and  did  not  try  to  rise  again. 
Jolly  now  came  up  puffing  and  blowing,  for  he  was  too 
short  of  wind  to  run  in  that  high  altitude  without  getting 
out  of  breath.  He  put  in  the  final  shot  and  the  great  brute 
rolled  over  on  his  side.  I  had  read  and  heard  much  about 
the  great  size  of  the  buffalo  but  this  one  looked  larger  to 
me  than  I  had  Supposed  them  to  be.  Jolly  by  this  time  had 
lost  his  grouch  and  we  both  felt  very  proud  and  well  sat- 
isfied with  our  kill.  We  cut  out  what  meat  we  could  carry 
and  went  back  to  camp  which  was  probably  not  over  two 
miles  away.  Getting  help,  and  horses  to  pack  the  meat  on, 
we  returned  and  cut  all  the  best  of  the  meat  from  the  bones, 
leaving  the  carcass  to  the  wolves,  the  ravens  and  the  buz- 
zards. The  other  party  returned  at  evening  with  all  the 
meat  they  could  carry,  but  I  do  not  remember  how  many 
buffalo  were  killed.  We  cut  the  meat  in  thin  strips,  salted 
it  slightly,  and  dried  it  in  the  sun,  smoke,  and  heat  of  the 
fire.  This  took  three  or  four  days.  We  had  all  the  meat 
we  could  afford  to  spend  time  to  cure,  besides  an  abund- 
ance of  fresh  meat  for  several  days.  In  that  dry  climate 
and  high  altitude  fresh  meat  will  keep  for  a  long  time  with- 
out spoiling.  Without  this  supply  of  meat  our  provisions 
would  have  run  low  long  before  reaching  a  place  where 
suppHes  could  be  had.  We  did  run  short  as  it  was,  before 
reaching  our  journey's  end,  as  will  be  seen  in  another  chap- 
ter. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  49 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Incidents  of  the  Journey — Out  on  the  Trail  Over  Night — 
The  Dogs  and  the  Wolves. 

I  have  omitted  to  state  that  somewhere  along  near  the 
western  line  of  the  present  state  of  Nebraska,  but  I  have 
forgotten  at  just  what  point,  Mr.  Knapp,  became  dissatisfied 
with  the  method  of  travel  of  Capt.  Well's  train,  and  he  de- 
termined to  pull  out  and  leave  it.  He  thought  a  train  of 
twenty-one  wagons  too  large — that  it  took  too  much  time 
to  pitch  camp  in  the  evening,  and  to  break  camp  in  the 
morning,  and  that  there  were  too  many  cattle  in  one  herd 
to  do  well  when  turned  loose  to  feed.  He  therefore  deter- 
mined to  travel  alone  for  a  time,  until  we  could  pick  up  a 
few  wagons  with  people  who  would  be  congenial  and 
agreeable  to  us,  and  thus  form  a  new  and  much  smaller 
train  that  would  be  more  easily  handled.  His  position  upon 
this  question  was  well  taken,  and  the  reasons  therefor  were 
good  and  sound.  We  therefore  traveled  by  ourselves  for  a 
week  or  ten  days,  my  cousin  Wesley  and  myself  taking  the 
whole  charge  of  the  cattle,  one  or  the  other  of  us  always, 
and  some  of  the  time  both  of  us  staying  out  with  them,  all 
night.  We  got  along  all  right,  only  that  Wesley  and  I  did 
not  have  our  full  amount  of  sleep,  because  when  out  with 
the  cattle  we  had  to  be  up  and  stirring  whenever  the  cattle 
got  up  to  feed.  When  the  cattle  were  driven  out  to  pas- 
ture after  making  camp,  they  would  usually  feed  until  about 
ten  o'clock,  when  they  would  lie  down  and  be  quiet  until 
about  one  or  two  o'clock,  and  then  get  up  and  feed  for  an 
hour  or  so  and  lie  down  again.  If  they  did  not  get  up  and 
go  to  feeding  at  the  first  streak  of  daylight,  it  was  our  busi- 
ness to  rout  them  out,  which  we  did  if  we  were  awake  our- 
selves, which  generally  was  not  the  case,  and  then  at  about 


50  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

sunrise  they  were  to  be  driven  to  camp.  Do  not  think  that 
we  with  our  wagon  were  alone  at  any  time,  even  if  we  were 
traveHng  by  ourselves.  There  were  wagons  ahead,  and 
wagons  behind  us,  all  the  time  and  in  plain  sight,  unless 
for  a  short  time  it  happened  that  our  wagon  was  hidden  in 
some  small  valley.  Mr.  Knapp,  who  spent  much  of  his  time 
on  horseback  soon  picked  up  some  emigrants  with  three  or 
four  wagons  and  directly  thereafter  three  or  four  more, 
making  a  train  of  eight  wagons  in  all,  and  about  twenty- 
four  persons,  men,  women  and  children.  This  train  was, 
from  that  time  on  to  the  end  of  the  journey,  known  as 
Knapp's  train.  It  just  came  to  be  known  as  such  because 
Knapp  was  the  most  prominent  and  best  known  person  of 
the  company,  but  not  because  he  was  captain,  for  we  had 
no  captain  or  other  officers,  nor  any  rules  or  regulations. 
Mr.  Knapp  was  the  leader — always  selected  the  camping 
places,  going  on  ahead  with  the  pony  for  that  purpose,  and 
as  he  had  good  sense  and  good  judgment,  his  plans  were 
always  followed  and  his  suggestions  adopted.  However,  he 
never  assumed  to  command,  or  even  to  take  the  lead,  but 
consulted  with  the  others  as  if  desirous  of  getting  their 
opinions,  but  somehow  his  opinions  were  always  satisfac- 
tory and  were  followed  out  without  objection. 

I  was  the  only  one  in  the  company,  as  I  now  remember, 
who  ever  gave  any  trouble;  but  I  was  a  constant  source 
of  anxiety  to  my  cousin  and  in  a  less  degree  to  Mr.  Knapp. 
As  stated  before  my  cousin  and  I  each  had  a  day  on  and  a 
day  off;  our  duties  were  light  and  easily  performed;  the 
oxen  had  become  thoroughly  broken,  and  would  mind  at  the 
word.  Our  lead  team  of  oxen  were  called  Tom  and  Tim 
— it  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  turn  them  out  of 
the  track  either  to  the  left  or  right,  even  when  the  driver 
was  away  back  by  the  wheel  oxen,  by  calling  out,  "Whoa, 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  51 

haw,  Tom,  haw,  Tim,"  or  "gee,  Tom,  gee,  Tim."  They 
were  all  of  them  as  tame  and  tractable  as  a  pet  dog;  and 
Tim  was  my  pet.  When  watching  the  cattle  at  night,  as 
soon  as  they  lay  down  to  rest,  I  would  lie  down  by  Tim, 
snuggling  up  close  to  his  side  if  the  night  was  chilly,  which 
was  always  the  case  when  we  had  reached  a  high  altitude, 
and  I  would  immediately  fall  asleep,  to  be  awakened  when 
Tim  made  a  move  to  get  up  to  go  to  feeding.  Poor  Tim, 
he  fell  by  the  way  and  did  not  live  to  feed  in  the  green  pas- 
tures of  the  Willamette  valley.  I  hope  there  is  a  heaven  for 
all  such  faithful  friends  of  man,  as  are  our  domestic  animals, 
for  it  seems  to  me  that  there  would  be  something  lacking 
to  be  forever  without  their  devoted  companionship.  We 
do  not  know — we  cannot  tell — it  may  be. 

As  intimated,  I  was  a  constant  source  of  worry  to  my 
cousin,  and  I  think  in  a  less  degree  to  Mr.  Knapp.  When 
it  was  my  day  to  drive,  Wesley  always  stayed  near  the  wag- 
ons, and  never  went  hunting  or  exploring,  although  he  was 
free  to  do  so  if  he  desired.  On  the  contrary,  when  we 
reached  that  interesting  country  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
Platte  valley,  and  so  on  west,  if  it  was  my  day  off,  I  was 
always  out  with  my  gun  as  soon  as  the  train  was  ready  to 
pull  out,  and  generally  was  not  seen  again  until  after  noon, 
and  frequently  not  till  supper  time,  unless  it  was  my  turn 
to  guard  the  cattle,  when  I  would  always  get  back  before 
camping  time.  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Knapp  cared  anything 
about  it  only  that,  as  I  was  out  quite  late  a  few  times,  he 
was  afraid  I  would  get  lost  and  delay  the  train.  But  Wes- 
ley was  one  of  the  cautious  kind  and  was  afraid  I  would 
break  a  leg,  or  that  the  Indians  would  get  me,  or  that  some 
other  dreadful  thing  would  happen.  One  night  we  made 
camp  on  the  north  bank  of  Malheur  river,  in  extreme  east- 
ern Oregon,  and  just  across  the  Snake  river  opposite  the 


52  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

place  where  now  stands  the  city  of  Payette,  Idaho.  The 
next  morning  it  was  my  day  off,  and  borrowing  from  a 
member  of  our  company  a  book  entitled  ''Journal  of  Travel 
over  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Columbia  River,"  by  Joel 
Palmer,  I  lay  down  under  a  tree  as  soon  as  the  train  was 
in  motion  and  began  to  read.  I  was  admonished  by  my 
cousin  not  to  stay  too  long,  but  to  overtake  the  train  before 
noon,  which  of  course  I  readily  and  faithfully  promised  to 
do.  Under  existing  circumstances  such  a  book,  as  one  can 
readily  see,  was  enchanting,  in  fact  absorbing,  and  I  for- 
got all  about  time  or  place.  The  sun  grew  hot  and  two 
or  three  times  I  changed  my  position  to  secure  shade — 
train  after  train  passed  along  and  I  continued  to  read.  At 
last  when  the  book  was  finished  the  sun  was  well  down  in 
the  west,  and  I  knew  it  would  be  dark  before  I  could  over- 
take the  train.  But  I  was  light  on  foot  then,  was  wearing 
moccasins,  and  had  no  coat — coat  and  rifle  having  been  left 
in  the  wagon,  and  besides  I  had  had  no  dinner  and  was  not 
burdened  with  a  full  stomach — there  was  nothing  to  carry 
but  the  book  I  had  been  reading.  It  was  a  good  long  stretch 
to  the  next  camping  place  which  was  called  I  think,  mud 
springs,  and  I  knew  I  could  overtake  no  wagons  until  I 
reached  that  place,  as  that  was  the  first  water.  Just  at  dark 
I  heard  a  dog  bark  ahead  of  me  in  the  road,  and  looking 
up  saw  two  large  brindled  dogs  that  belonged  to  our  train. 
They  had  been  hunting  together,  as  they  were  accustomed 
to  do,  and  had  now  returned  to  the  road  looking  for  the 
train,  which  of  course,  was  their  home.  They  were  as  glad 
to  see  me  as  I  was  to  see  them.  Going  on  in  company  with 
the  dogs,  I  expected  surely  to  meet  our  folks  at  the  springs 
and  so  evidently  did  the  dogs,  judging  from  their  actions, 
but  although  there  were  three  or  four  outfits  in  camp,  our 
train  was  not  there.  On  inquiring  for  Knapp's  train  I  was 
told  "It  is  about  an  hour  ahead."    That  would  mean  about 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  53 

a  half  hour  for  me,  and  after  travehng  more  than  half  an 
hour  I  came  to  another  camp  and  asked  again  for  Knapp's 
train,  and  was  told  *'It  is  about  an  hour  ahead."  The  dogs 
and  I  went  on — there  was  starlight  but  no  moon — the  road 
was  full  of  loose  stones,  and  I  was  constantly  stubbing  my 
toes,  in  the  dark,  the  moccasins  not  affording  very  satis- 
factory protection.  I  was  hungry,  not  having  had  a  mouth- 
ful since  breakfast.  I  am  not  sure,  but  think  I  must  have 
been  getting  tired,  and  am  quite  sure  I  was  getting  mad. 
I  told  the  dogs  it  was  time  to  camp,  so  we  turned  aside 
up  a  little  hollow ;  I  gathered  up  a  big  armful  of  sage  brush, 
of  which  there  was  plenty,  and  soon  had  a  good  big  fire. 
The  dogs  and  I  curled  up  by  the  fire  and  went  to  sleep  to- 
gether .  The  night  was  cool,  and  I  was  in  my  shirtsleeves, 
but  sage  brush  was  plenty  and  the  fire  was  replenished  many 
times  during  the  night.  The  wolves,  the  big  gray  kind,  were 
around  camp  all  night,  snapping  and  howling  but  there  was 
not  a  particle  of  danger  from  them — they  were  not  hungry, 
for  the  trail  was  strewn  with  dead  or  dying  cattle.  The 
dogs  chased  them  off  several  times,  and  seemed  to  think 
it  was  their  business  to  take  care  of  me.  What  a  faithful 
friend  to  man  is  a  dog — he  never  wavers  in  his  affection  for, 
or  devotion  to  his  master.  Had  a  man  been  my  companion 
that  night,  he  might  have  forsaken  me  and  saved  himself 
if  possible,  had  there  been  danger,  but  these  dogs  would 
have  stayed  by  me  to  the  last  and  would  have  given  their 
lives  to  save  mine.  A  few  days  later  these  dogs  went  on 
a  hunt  and  did  not  return.  I  was  very  sorry,  for  although 
they  were  not  mine,  they  were  my  friends,  especially  on 
that  night.  I  got  to  camp  next  morning  just  as  they  were 
yoking  up  the  oxen  and  Mr.  Knapp  had  the  pony  saddled 
to  start  back  after  me.  I  got  a  good  rounding  up,  which 
of  course  was  merited,  but  it  did  not  do  one  bit  of  good. 
"The  leopard  cannot  change  his  spots,  nor  the  Ethiopian 
his  skin." 


54  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

.  There  were  many  things  that  tended  to  make  this  trip 
interesting.  Among  other  things,  while  we  were  travehng 
along  the  Platte  valley  with  Capt.  Wells'  train,  some  mem- 
ber of  the  company  had  a  greyhound,  a  very  tall,  fleet  dog 
that  was  a  great  favorite.  He  would  chase  antelope  every 
time  one  came  near  enough  so  that  he  could  see  it,  but  I 
think  he  was  never  able  to  catch  one,  although  they  had 
to  get  right  down  to  business  and  do  their  best  to  keep  out 
of  his  reach. 

One  day  two  of  the  men  were  about  sixty  rods  away 
from  the  wagons,  trying,  I  think,  to  get  some  prairie  chick- 
ens, having  the  dog  with  them.  A  big  wolf  started  up  out 
of  the  grass,  and  the  dog  gave  chase.  The  ground  was 
perfectly  level,  and  the  chase  was  a  fine  one,  and  all  in 
plain  sight  of  the  wagons,  as  the  wolf,  instead  of  running 
north  toward  the  hills,  kept  right  on  west  the  way  we  were 
going.  The  dog  caught  him  in  a  short  distance  and  at 
one  snap  disabled  one  hind  leg — the  wolf  turned,  but  the 
dog  got  out  of  the  way.  Again  the  wolf  started  to  run, 
and  the  dog  caught  him  again  and  soon  had  both  hind  legs 
crippled.  The  wolf  then  stopped  to  fight  and  refused  to 
run,  when  one  of  the  men  came  up  near  enough  and  shot 
him.  The  dog  and  wolf  did  not  clinch,  and  the  dog  was  not 
hurt  at  all. 

While  in  camp  opposite  Ft.  Laramie  a  number  of  young 
Indians  visited  our  camp  with  their  bows  and  arrows  and 
began  shooting  at  a  mark.  The  men  would  put  an  old 
fashioned  cent  in  a  split  stick  and  placing  it  at  a  distance 
of  ten  steps  away,  the  Indians  would  shoot  at  it,  the  cent 
going  to  the  one  that  could  hit  it. 

After  awhile,  borrowing  a  bow  and  arrows  from  one 
of  the  Indians  I  tried  my  luck  at  it,  and  found  that  I  could 
shoot  about  as  well  as  the  Indians. 

It  surprised  them  very  much  that  a  white  man  knew 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  55 

how  to  handle  a  bow  and  arrows.  If  I  had  had  a  Chippewa 
bow  I  beHeve  I  could  have  beaten  them.  I  had  used  a  Chip- 
pewa bow  and  arrows  from  the  time  I  was  eight  years  old 
until  I  was  grown,  and  had  become  expert.  The  bows  of 
the  Chippewas  are  much  longer  than  those  of  the  Sioux, 
but  the  arrows  are  about  the  same. 

When  we  reached  the  upper  waters  of  the  Platte,  and 
also  farther  west  on  the  Sweetwater  there  were  an  abund- 
ance of  wild,  ripe  gooseberries,  and  also  yellow  and  black 
wild  currants,  and  after  crossing  the  divide  and  getting  over 
into  Bear  river  valley  and  beyond  as  far  as  Snake  river, 
we  found  ripe,  wild  service  berries  in  such  quantities  as  I 
had  never  seen  before  nor  have  I  ever  seen  anything  like 
it  since.  There  were  also  wild  strawberry  plants  in  great 
abundance  on  the  Sweetwater,  but  the  fruit  was  all  gone 
before  we  reached  that  place. 

Probably  from  what  has  been  told  in  this  and  some  of 
the  preceding  chapters,  the  reader  will  be  of  the  opinion  that 
it  was  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  cross  the  continent  with  an 
ox  team  in  the  early  fifties,  and  this  opinion  will  be  at  least 
partly  correct.  It  was  not  only  in  many  respects  a  pleasant 
trip,  but  it  was  also  instructive — it  was  an  education  of  a 
kind  that  could  be  had  in  no  other  way — it  was  worth  more 
to  a  young  man  than  any  term  of  equal  length  in  school. 
But  there  was  a  serious  side  also — it  was  not  all  pleasure 
and  there  was  very  little  play.  The  next  chapter,  or  at 
least  a  part  of  it,  will  be  devoted  to  some  of  the  more  serious 
problems  that  presented  themselves  during  the  trip. 


56  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Cholera — Death  of  Hosea  Ballou — The  Story  of  Mrs. 
Knapp  and  Her  Baby. 

It  might  be  inferred  by  the  reader  from  perusing  the 
preceding  articles,  that  about  all  the  travel  over  the  Oregon 
and  California  trail  in  the  year  1852,  and  previous  years, 
was  by  ox  teams.  To  quite  an  extent  this  was  true.  At 
the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  all  the  trains  that  I  saw 
on  the  route  were  made  up  of  ordinary  farm  wagons  drawn 
by  ox  teams,  excepting  that  there  were  in  almost  every 
train  a  few  light  wagons,  generally  with  springs,  that  were 
drawn  by  horses,  and  carrying  the  women  and  children  and 
sometimes  the  bedding.  These  light  wagons  and  horse 
teams  were  scarce,  however,  as  most  of  the  emigrants  had 
but  one  wagon,  which  carried  the  provisions  and  bedding 
of  the  owner,  as  well  as  a  few  common,  indispensible  tools, 
and  in  which  also  rode  the  wife  and  children,  provided  the 
owner  had  a  family.  However  in  the  early  part  of  the 
season  many  trains  had  passed  over  the  road,  made  up  of 
men  almost  entirely,  with  horse  or  mule  teams  lightly  equip- 
ped, and  able  to  travel  rapidly,  and  all  bound  for  the  gold 
mines  of  California.  These  were  all  ahead  of  us,  and  we 
saw  none  of  them.  They  could  make  the  overland  trip  with 
good  luck  in  ninety  days  from  the  Missouri  river,  while  it 
took  the  slow-moving  ox  trains  a  full  five  months.  These 
horse  and  mule  outfits  were  in  much  more  danger  from  the 
Indians  than  were  the  trains  drawn  by  oxen,  because  the 
Indians  wanted  the  horses  and  mules  and  would  steal  them 
at  any  time  if  there  was  a  chance,  but  they  had  no  use  what- 
ever for  the  oxen.  The  feeling  of  danger  from  Indians 
therefore  to  our  train,  soon  ceased  to  trouble  us,  except  that 
there  were  some  timid  ones  who  were  alwavs  afraid.     As 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  57 

for  myself,  I  had  always  known  Indians,  liked  them,  and  on 
every  occasion  when  any  came  to  our  camp  I  made  their 
acquaintance  as  much  as  possible  and  treated  them  as  friends. 
It  was  intimated  in  the  last  chapter  that  this  article  would 
treat  in  part  at  least  of  some  of  the  serious  problems  of  the 
trip  that  had  to  be  met  and  solved.  I  have  mentioned  the 
Indians  at  this  time  because  it  seems  to  stick  permanently 
in  the  minds  of  many  that  the  probability  of  Indian  attack 
was  the  most  serious  of  all  the  problems  confronting  the 
emigrant.  Let  this  idea  of  Indian  attack  be  eliminated  from 
the  reader's  mind — if  such  danger  ever  existed,  and  it  did 
sometimes,  it  did  not  exist  in  the  year  1852. 

The  first  real  trouble  that  befell  our  train,  and  that  while 
we  were  traveling  with  Capt.  Wells'  company,  was  the  ap- 
pearance of  Asiatic  cholera,  or  at  any  rate  what  was  called 
Asiatic  cholera.  I  find  on  consulting  certain  authorities 
recently,  that  it  is  denied  that  there  ever  has  been  any  real 
Asiatic  cholera  in  the  United  States  but  once,  that  being  in 
1832-1834,  and  that  the  scourge  of  so  called  cholera  of  1850- 
1854  was  not  cholera  at  all.  "Who  shall  decide  when  doc- 
tors disagree?"  If  a  disease  that  is  kindred  to  cholera  and 
that  carries  off  30  to  50  percent  of  those  attacked,  is  in  our 
presence,  it  makes  little  difference  what  it  is  called.  Our 
company  suffered  from  this  disease  but  little  comparatively, 
but  it  was  very  prevalent  in  some  companies,  and  very  fatal. 
It  apparently  had  followed  the  emigration  from  St.  Louis 
up  the  Missouri  river,  and  so  on  across  the  country  by  the 
overland  trail,  perhaps  not  quite  across  the  continent  but 
at  least  as  far  west  as  the  Snake  river  valley  in  Idaho.- 

In  our  company  was  a  Mr.  Hosea  Ballou  with  his  wife 
and,  I  think  two  or  three  little  children,  accompanied  also 
by  a  brother,  Henry  Ballou,  all  from  Henry  county.  111. 
We  had  heard  of  cholera,  and  of  some  deaths  in  some  of 
the  neighboring  companies,  but  our  people  had  been  well, 


58  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

excepting  some  cases  of  dysentery,  when  suddenly  Mr. 
Hosea  Ballon  was  stricken  with  cholera  and  died  in  a  few 
hours.  I  saw  him  die,  and  it  was  the  first  death  I  had  ever 
witnessed.  It  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind.  A 
strong  man  who  only  a  day  or  so  previous  to  his  death,  I 
had  seen  going  about  his  work  in  apparent  health,  was  cut 
down  without  warning,  leaving  a  wife  and  two  or  three 
helpless  babies.  It  seemed  to  me  that  we  were  utterly 
helpless  in  the  presence  of  such  a  scourge.  A  grave  was 
dug  by  the  side  of  the  trail,  and  the  body  wrapped  in  ^  bed 
quilt  as  there  was  no  lumber  for  a  coffin,  was  sorrowfully 
and  silently  lowered  into  it,  and  without  a  prayer  or  a  song 
or  the  reading  of  a  single  passage  of  Scripture,  the  grave 
was  filled  and  the  train  moved  on.  God  deliver  us  from 
such  a  death  and  burial.  It  was  better  to  be  broken  and 
killed  by  a  fall  from  a  precipice — to  be  drowned  in  the  waters 
of  the  river  or  to  be  killed  by  the  Indians,  than  to  die  such 
a  death,  and  to  have  such  a  burial.  This  cast  a  dreadful 
gloom  over  the  whole  company,  but  it  was  the  only  death 
from  this  cause.  There  were  two  or  three  more  light  cases 
of  the  disease  in  our  train,  one  of  whom  was  Mr.  Knapp, 
but  all  speedily  recovered.  For  many  weeks,  however, 
there  were  cases  of  dysentery,  some  of  which  were  serious, 
obstinate,  and  of  long  duration. 

Another  serious  matter,  and  the  cause  of  a  good  deal 
of  trouble,  and  loss,  amounting  in  some  cases  to  the  break- 
ing up  of  some  of  the  teams,  and  abandonment  of  the  wa- 
gons, was  the  lameness  and  sickness  of  some  of  the  oxen. 
There  was  little  or  none  of  this  for  the  first  five  or  six  hun- 
dred miles,  but  as  we  approached  the  mountains  and  the 
roads  became  very  hard,  gravelly,  and  hilly,  the  oxen,  es- 
pecially the  heavy  ones,  and  those  used  as  the  wheel  teams 
— that  is  those  next  to  the  wagon — became  footsore  and 
lame,  in  some  cases  the  feet  becoming  worn  through  on  the 
bottom    so    that   they    would    bleed.     Our    employer,    Mr. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  59 

Knapp,  had  provided  against  this  trouble  by  bringing  along 
a  supply  of  ox  shoes  and  nails  for  putting  them  on.  Some, 
however,  did  not  think  of  this,  or  did  not  forsee  such  a 
difficulty  and  did  not  provide  themselves  v^ith  ox  shoes. 
We  lay  over  for  two  days  when  our  oxen  first  began  to  have 
tender  feet,  and  shod  all  in  our  train  that  needed  it,  as  some 
had  shoes,  and  Mr.  Knapp  fortunately  had  enough  to  supply 
those  who  had  none.  In  the  lumber  woods,  and  elsewhere 
where  it  is  necessary  to  shoe  oxen,  a  frame  is  kept  at  every 
blacksmith  shop,  into  which  the  ox  is  led,  where  he  is  se- 
cured and  by  means  of  a  clutch,  straps,  ropes  and  pulleys 
he  is  easily  placed  in  position,  and  the  work  is  quickly  and 
easily  done.  Out  on  the  plains,  however,  it  was  different, 
and  was  no  easy  job.  Sometimes  the  front  feet  could  be 
shod  with  the  ox  standing  if  he  was  very  quiet  and  gentle, 
but  to  shoe  the  hind  feet  the  ox  had  to  be  thrown  on  his 
side,  his  head  secured  so  he  could  not  raise  it  ,and  the  hind 
feet  drawn  forward  up  against  the  body  and  tied  with  ropes. 
Our  man.  Jolly,  mentioned  in  the  last  article,  was  a  black- 
smith, and  expert  at  the  business  as  soon  as  the  best  plan  to 
throw  and  hold  the  ox  was  discovered.  Very  many  oxen 
became  so  footsore  that  they  could  not  travel  and  had  to  be 
abandoned,  to  be  devoured  by  the  wolves.  After  crossing 
the  Rocky  mountains  there  was  a  disease  among  the  cattle 
which  was  not  understood,  and  which  was  incurable,  that 
took  off  a  great  many.  From  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
mountains  west  to  the  end  of  the  journey  the  trail  was 
marked  so  thickly  with  dead  cattle,  that  they  were  hardly 
ever  out  of  sight,  and  the  wolves,  buzzards  and  ravens  at- 
tracted by  the  carcasses  upon  which  they  feasted  were  more 
numerous  than  I  have  ever  seen  them  elsewhere. 

I  wonder  if  any  mother,  who  is  a  reader  of  these  papers, 
would  be  ambitious  to  make  such  a  trip  of  almost  2800  miles 
as  the  road  runs,  and  taking  from  the  middle  of  May  to  the 
middle  of  October,  or  even  a  longer  time,  having  in  her  care 


60  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

from  one  to  five  children,  riding  in  the  day  time  and  sleeping 
at  night  in  a  covered  wagon,  cooking  by  an  open  fire,  with 
the  wind,  dust  or  rain  to  contend  with,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
hot  sun  by  day,  the  music  of  the  wolves  by  night,  and  the 
more  or  less  constant  fear  and  dread  of  the  Indians.  If 
any  feel  that  way — well — they  have  got  grit — that  is  all. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  oxen  were  shod,  the  tires  were 
set  on  many  of  the  wagons,  as  the  hot  weather  and  dry 
atmosphere  was  hard  on  the  woodwork.  This,  however, 
was  quite  an  easy  job — cotton  wood  bark  was  plentiful  at 
that  camp  and  was  used  for  heating  the  tires. 

As  stated  in  a  former  chapter,  our  family,  when  we  left 
St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  consisted  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Knapp  and  their 
little  girl,  and  my  cousin,  Wesley,  and  myself,  but  away  over 
the  continental  divide  somewhere,  I  cannot  now  remember 
just  where,  there  was  an  addition  to  our  family,  Mrs.  Knapp 
presenting  her  husband  with  a  little  girl  baby.  It  cannot  be 
said  that  there  was  rejoicing  in  camp  because  an  addition 
of  that  kind  was  really  desired  or  welcomed,  but  there  was 
rejoicing  that  the  baby  lived  and  that  Mrs.  Knapp  recovered 
her  strength  rapidly,  and  only  a  delay  of  two  or  three  days 
was  necessary  before  resuming  the  journey. 

And  now  comes  the  saddest  part  of  my  story.  I  shrink 
from  telling  it,  and  have  seldom  mentioned  it — but  it  is 
proper  and  right  that  it  should  be  told.  We  were  camped 
on  Burnt  river,  in  what  is  now  Baker  county,  eastern  Ore- 
gon, somewhere  between  Huntington  and  Baker  City — the 
oxen  had  died  off  so  that  our  team  was  not  strong  enough 
to  draw  the  wagon,  and  all  the  other  teams  wxre  in  a  similar 
condition — we  were  getting  short  of  provisions,  and  we 
supposed  none  could  be  had  nearer  than  Walla  Walla,  pro- 
bably 200  miles  distant.  It  was  decided  to  double  teams, 
abandon  part  of  the  wagons,  and  all  the  single  men  to  leave 
the  train  and  go  on  foot,  to  shift  for  themselves  as  well  as 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  61 

they  could.  The  teams  so  doubled  could  easily  draw  the 
remaining  wagons,  and  it  was  thought  there  might  be  pro- 
visions enough  left  to  last  those  that  tarried  with  the  teams, 
until  suppHes  could  be  reached.  There  were  four  of  us  to 
go  on  ahead,  my  cousin,  Wesley,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Root, 
another  whose  name  has  gone  from  me,  and  myself.  We 
bade  them  all  good  bye,  and  started  off,  but  our  journey  of 
400  miles  on  foot  will  be  told  in  the  next  chapter. 

Mrs.  Knapp  and  her  babies  I  never  saw  ag-^m.  I  saw 
Mr.  Knapp  in  Portland  about  a  year  later,  ana  he  told  me 
this  sad  story.  Soon  after  we  left  the  company  the  baby 
was  taken  sick  and  died  and  was  buried  in  a  poor,  little, 
lonely  grave,  only  another  added  to  the  thousands  that  al- 
ready marked  the  whole  course  of  the  trail.  It  was  too 
much  for  the  mother — she  probably  had  not  become  very 
strong  and  in  just  a  few  days  she  followed  her  baby  to  the 
better  land.  Poor  Mrs.  Knapp — her  lot  for  the  last  few 
months  of  her  life  was  a  hard  one.  Born  of  well  to  do 
parents  in  Louisiana,  her  father  an  owner  of  slaves,  reared 
in  a  good  home,  well  educated,  surrounded  by  luxuries,  she 
yet  consented,  and  willingly,  I  think,  to  undertake  this  trip, 
knowing  of  some  of  the  things  at  least,  that  she  was  to 
endure.  She  had  energy,  courage  and  grit,  but  had  never 
been  drilled  in  the  school  of  adversity.  Her  strength  was 
insufficient  for  the  burdens  she  had  to  carry.  Mr.  Knapp 
was  born  in  Ohio  but  went  to  Louisiana  when  quite  young, 
and  married  his  wife  there.  He  did  not  believe  in  slavery 
and  wanted  to  go  to  a  state  where  it  did  not  exist,  and  his 
wife  was  willing  to  go  with  him.  They  decided  that  Oregon 
was  the  place.  The  reader  has  heard  the  story  but  I  could 
scarcely  summon  sufficient  resolution  to  relate  it. 


62  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Four  Young  Men  Leave  the  Train  and  Go  On  Afoot— Ar- 
rival at  the  Dalles — Trip  Down  the  Columbia — Arrive 
at  Oregon  City. 

Referring  back  to  the  narrative  given  in  the  last  chap- 
ter, it  will  be  remembered  that  our  train  was  reconstructed, 
and  that  to  economize  in  provisions,  four  young  men  of  the 
train  who  had  no  families,  were  to  leave  the  company  and 
make  the  rest  of  the  journey  on  foot.  It  had  been  known 
for  some  time  that  provisions  were  getting  scarce,  and  every 
effort  possible  had  been  put  forth  to  procure  game  and 
fish  to  help  out.  Before  we  left  the  train  and  while  en- 
camped on  one  of  the  tributaries  of  Snake  river  called  Goose 
creek,  a  number  of  fish  of  the  sucker  variety,  weighing  from 
one  to  two  pounds  apiece,  were  shot  with  a  rifle  in  the  shal- 
low waters,  and  this  gave  us  one  good  mess.  A  little  far- 
ther on  we  came  to  an  Indian  village  at  a  place  where  there 
were  some  low  falls  in  the  river,  and  these  Indians  were 
engaged  in  drying  salmon  for  their  winter  supply  of  pro- 
visions. They  were  not  willing  to  sell  the  dried  fish  but 
offered  fresh  ones  right  out  of  the  water  for  sale.  I  traded 
for  a  large  red  salmon  that  would  probably  weigh  thirty 
pounds,  a  ten  cent  tin  powder  flask,  containing  about  six 
charges  of  powder.  This  was  all  we  wanted  for  our  wagon, 
and  it  tasted  so  good  that  nearly  all  of  us  overate  and  were 
sick  from  its  effects.  Near  this  place  we  crossed  Snake 
river,  because  it  was  known  that  the  road  for  a  hundred 
miles  or  so  was  much  better  on  the  north  than  on  the  south 
side.  The  river  was  too  deep  to  ford,  and  a  raft  was  con- 
structed by  taking  two  of  the  tightest  and  best  wagon  boxes, 
lashing  them  together  side  by  side,  caulking  the  seams  as 
tightly  as  possible,  thus  forming  a  pretty  safe  and  sub- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  63 

stantial  raft.  The  wagons  were  unloaded  and  taken  apart, 
and  every  thing  ferried  safely  over,  it  taking  a  good  many 
trips,  but  it  was  accomplished  with  little  difficulty.  The  cat- 
tle were  driven  across,  having  to  swim  part  of  the  way,  and 
it  fell  to  my  lot  here  as  elsewhere,  when  any  large  stream 
was  to  be  crossed,  to  follow  them  over  on  horseback.  Re- 
suming our  journey  we  soon  came  to  Boise  or  Wood  river, 
which  was  crossed  and  then  followed  down  to  its  mouth, 
where  we  again  crossed  Snake  river  in  the  same  way  as 
at  first.  All  along  Boise  river  there  was  an  abundance  of 
rabbits,  the  common  cottontail  kind  such  as  are  found  here. 
The  first  mess  of  these  procured  on  Boise  river  was  shot  by 
Mr.  Knapp.  I  went  with  him  and  carried  the  rifle  and  the 
game,  Mr.  Knapp  doing  the  shooting.  He  had  the  best 
rifle  in  the  whole  outfit — in  fact  the  only  real  good  one,  and 
he  was  a  good  shot,  but  at  this  time  was  just  recovering 
from  the  illness  caused  by  eating  too  much  salmon,  and  was 
not  yet  strong  enough  to  carry  the  heavy  rifle.  In  about 
half  an  hour  he  killed  seven  rabbits,  scarce  missing  a  shot. 

The  country  passed  over  along  Boise  river  looked  good 
to  us,  being  thickly  covered  with  grass  about  eight  or  ten 
inches  high,  but  dry  and  dead  at  that  time  of  year,  and 
having  a  dark  and  evidently  productive  soil  provided  there 
was  sufficient  water  for  the  growing  plants.  I  have  under- 
stood that  this  is  one  of  the  best  parts  of  Idaho,  and  is  now 
well  settled  and  improved.  Not  long  after  crossing  Snake 
river  the  last  time,  we  came  to  the  camp  on  Burnt  river 
where  we  parted  company  and  started  on  afoot.  We  took 
very  little  in  the  provision  line  from  the  train  as  it  could 
not  be  spared — the  only  thing  as  I  remember  being  a  little 
of  the  dried  buffalo  meat  that  had  been  killed  and  prepared 
at  the  last  camp  on  Platte  river  near  Red  Buttes,  as  pre- 
viously told.  We  had  each  a  gun,  a  blanket  or  two,  an  over- 
coat, and  among  us  a  small  tin  pail  and  a  frying  pan,  and 
one  of  the  men,  Root  I  think,  had  a  watch.    We  could  have 


64  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

taken  more  bedding  but  did  not  care  to  be  burdened  with 
it.  I  think  every  one  had  a  little  money  left,  and  it  was 
hoped  that  with  it  enough  provisions  could  be  bought  from 
emigrant  trains  that  we  would  overtake  and  pass,  to  keep 
us  eating  until  the  settlements  were  reached.  We  also  took 
with  us  a  black  mare  said  to  be  of  good  stock,  belong- 
ing to  one  of  our  company,  with  instructions  to  take  her 
through  if  she  could  keep  up,  but  if  not  to  turn  her  loose 
and  the  owner  would  pick  her  up  again  if  he  found  her. 
The  mare  was  very  thin,  and  seemed  to  be  growing  weaker 
all  the  time.  We  always  turned  her  loose  at  night,  and  one 
morning  she  could  not  be  found,  and  we  did  not  care  to  tarry 
to  hunt  her  up. 

We  wanted  to  know  about  how  much  ground  we  cov- 
ered in  each  day's  travel,  and  it  was  arranged  that  we 
should  take  turns  in  counting  our  steps,  calling  1700  steps 
a  mile.  As  there  are  5280  feet  in  a  mile  1700  steps  would 
just  about  equal  a  mile,  provided  the  one  counting  his 
steps  or  "paces"  as  we  called  it  measured  just  a  little  over 
three  feet  at  a  pace.  In  this  way  by  noting  by  the  watch 
the  time  it  took  to  "pace"  off  one  mile,  we  found  that  we 
could  easily  cover  thirty  miles  a  day,  and  in  this  way  could 
tell  just  about  how  long  it  would  take  us  to  get  to  a  place 
where  we  could  get  something  to  eat.  That  was  really  the 
problem  that  was  to  be  solved — getting  something  to  eat. 
We  were  all  well,  strong  and  happy.  I  liked  that  trip.  Our 
guns  were  a  burden,  and  almost  of  no  use  on  the  trip,  as 
all  the  game  we  had  a  chance  to  shoot  during  the  trip  was 
one  grouse  that  alighted  near  us  on  the  side  hill  as  we  were 
eating  breakfast,  and  one  or  two  ruffed  grouse,  or  pheas- 
ants found  in  the  thick  timber  while  crossing  the  Blue  moun- 
tains. However,  in  the  end,  the  guns  helped  us  out,  for  on 
arriving  at  the  Dalles,  I  sold  mine  for  four  dollars,  and  I 
think  my  cousin  got  five  dollars  for  his.  We  had  very  poor 
luck  buying  provisions  from  the  emigrants,  nearly  all  being 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  65 

short  themselves,  and  those  that  had  a  Httle  to  spare  gener- 
ally felt  that  it  ought  to  be  kept  for  others  that  were  short, 
who  had  women  and  children  dependent  upon  them.  This 
reason  for  not  selling  to  us,  and  which  was  unanswerable, 
was  given  in  a  number  of  instances.  Upon  one  occasion  I 
had  quite  an  adventure  while  trying  to  buy  something  to 
eat  of  a  man  belonging  to  a  company  that  was  in  camp  near 
where  we  stopped  for  lunch.  I  said  stopped  for  lunch,  but 
we  could  have  no  lunch  that  time  unless  I  succeeded  in  buy- 
ing something.  I  bought  for  a  dollar  about  as  much  bread 
as  one  can  now  get  at  a  bake  shope  for  ten  cents,  and  was 
just  turning  away  with  my  purchase,  when  a  man  belonging 
apparently,  to  another  wagon  asked,  ^'What  did  you  sell 
that  bread  for?"  and  began  cursing  the  man  that  sold  it, 
and  declaring  he  would  shoot  him,  went  to  his  wagon  and 
got  a  revolver.  I  thought  there  would  be  bloodshed,  and 
did  not  know  whether  to  offer  to  trade  back,  or  to  run.  I 
did  neither.  The  man  who  sold  the  bread  never  said  a 
word,  probably  knowing  that  to  be  the  best  way,  and  pre- 
sently the  other  quieting  down  somewhat,  approached  me 
and  said  in  an  apologetic  sort  of  way,  "We  are  short  our- 
selves, and  haven't  enough  for  our  own  women  and  chil- 
dren." I  told  him  how  we  were  fixed  and  he  seemed  con- 
siderably mollified.  It  is  probable  that  some  of  the  emi- 
grants let  us  have  a  little  food  when  they  really  could  not 
spare  it — in  fact  I  am  sure  that  was  the  case.  After  cross- 
ing the  Blue  mountains,  from  the  western  slope  of  which 
Mt.  Hood,  one  of  the  highest  and  sharpest  peaks  in  the  Cas- 
cade range  was  in  plain  sight  away  to  the  west,  all  white 
with  snow,  we  came  down  upon  the  Umatilla  river,  where 
we  found  Indians  that  farmed  a  little,  and  they  brought  to 
us  potatoes  and  dry  shelled  peas  to  sell.  Our  money  by  this 
time  was  gone,  and  in  fact  the  Indians  cared  little  for  it 
anyway,  not  well  knowing  its  value.  They  also  had  dried 
camas  roots.    The  camas  is  a  bulbous  plant  with  a  root  or 


66  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

bulb  something  like  a  small  onion.  It  grows  in  great  quan- 
tities on  the  prairies  of  Central  and  Eastern  Oregon  and 
Washington,  its  beautiful  blue  flowers  in  springtime  being 
so  numerous  as  to  give  tint  and  color  to  the  landscape.  A 
camas  prairie  in  early  springtime  is  a  lovely  sight.  The 
Indians  dig  the  roots  in  great  quantities,  and  prepare  them 
for  winter  use.  The  taste  is  sweet  and  agreeable,  and  has 
the  appearance  of  having  been  soaked  in  molasses  before 
being  cured.  The  saccharine  matter,  however,  is  in  the  plant 
itself.  We  had  very  little  to  offer  them  in  trade.  They 
would  take  powder  and  lead,  but  of  this  we  only  had  a  small 
supply.  My  cousin  was  trying  to  strike  a  bargain  with  an 
old  squaw  for  some  dried  camas  roots,  but  she  was  sharp 
and  refused  whatever  he  had  to  offer.  Finally  putting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  for  something  he  was  looking  for  he 
accidentally  drew  out  a  large  smoked  pearl  button  that  be- 
longed on  my  overcoat  and  that  happened  to  be  in  his  pock- 
et. The  squaw  gave  a  scream  of  delight,  pushed  the  bunch 
of  camas  roots  towards  him  and  seizing  the  button  ran  off, 
evidently  thinking  she  had  struck  a  grand  bargain.  My 
overcoat  was  double  breasted,  having  two  rows  of  smoked 
pearl  buttons  up  and  down  in  front.  From  that  time  on 
we  could  buy  of  the  Indians  anything  they  had  to  offer  in 
the  provision  line  as  long  as  the  buttons  lasted.  At  last 
they  were  all  cut  off  and  the  coat  was  tied  together  with 
strings.  We  had  currency  of  the  most  acceptable  kind  un- 
til we  reached  the  Dalles  where  there  were  supplies  in  plenty. 

I  forgot  to  state  that  a  day  or  two  after  we  parted 
company  from  our  train  on  Burnt  river  we  overtook  a  young 
fellow  whose  name  has  been  forgotten,  if  indeed,  I  ever 
knew  it,  but  who  was  called  Bud.  He  said  he  had  left  his 
company  because  they  were  short  of  eatables  and  was  mak- 
ing his  way  alone.  He  had  no  money,  no  blankets,  no  over- 
coat, and  nothing  to  eat.  We  felt  sorry  for  him  and  took 
him  in,  and  took  care  of  him  until  we  arrived  at  the  Dalles 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  67 

where  we  left  him  when  we  took  a  canoe  to  go  down  the 
Columbia.  He  paid  us  off  well,  however,  for  helping  him 
along,  and  gave  us  something  to  remember  him  by,  for 
every  one  of  us  got  lousy  sleeping  with  him.  We  did  not 
go  by  Walla  Walla  as  had  been  intended,  but  cut  off  two  or 
three  days'  travel  by  leaving  it  to  the  north,  and  going  on 
straight  to  the  Dalles.  At  the  Dalles  a  settlement  had  been 
commenced.  There  were  one  or  two  board  shanties,  quite 
a  large  number  of  tents,  and  there  were  supplies  of  all  kinds 
for  sale.  We  were  entirely  out  of  money,  but  had  one  large 
smoked  pearl  button  left,  which,  however,  did  not  pass  cur- 
rent with  the  white  traders,  but  did  serve  us  well,  however, 
later  on.  We  here  sold  our  rifles,  and  nearly  all  our  blan- 
kets and  got  something  to  eat  and  supplies,  as  we  supposed, 
enough  to  last  us  to  the  Cascades  of  the  Columbia.  There 
were  Indians  here  with  big  Columbia  river  canoes,  wait- 
ing to  take  passengers  down  the  river,  the  charge  being 
four  dollars  each  and  board  yourself.  We  found  five  other 
men,  making  nine  in  all  of  white  men,  and  picking  out  a 
good  looking  canoe,  manned  by  two  Indians,  pushed  off 
down  the  Columbia.  At  the  start  it  was  a  charming  trip 
— the  smooth,  deep  river,  with  clear  water  and  high,  bluffy 
shores — the  bold  range  of  the  Cascade  mountains  in  front, 
and  seeming  to  grow  higher  and  higher  as  we  neared  them 
— the  bright  sunshine  overhead — the  rocks  and  cliffs  be- 
coming bolder  and  higher  as  we  approached  the  mountains, 
and  at  last  as  we  entered  the  gateway  of  the  mountains  the 
evergreen  trees,  covering  the  sides  and  crowning  the  sum- 
mits of  the  mountains  nearest  the  river,  and  every  now  and 
then  a  cascade  where  some  mountain  brook  came  tumbling 
down  from  rock  to  rock,  or  poured  over  a  high  precipice, 
dissolving  into  spray  before  reaching  the  river. 

Soon  after  entering  the  mountains  it  began  raining 
with  a  strong  wind  coming  directly  up  the  river  from  the 
ocean.    The  home  of  the  Indians  who  owned  the  canoe  was 


68  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

at  the  mouth  of  the  White  Sahiion  river,  and  here  we  land- 
ed and  remained  three  days  waiting  for  the  storm  to  sub- 
side, and  of  course  we  ate  up  all  our  store  of  provisions 
before  we  got  under  way  again.  We  were  just  about  out 
of  everything  to  trade  on,  and  the  Indians,  finding  it  out, 
were  good  to  us.  We  had  no  blankets  left  at  all  as  I  re- 
member, but  there  was  lots  of  timber,  some  of  it  very  large, 
which  sheltered  us  from  the  wind  and  we  took  lodgings 
under  a  big  fir  tree  that  shed  a  good  deal  of  rain,  made  and 
kept  up  a  big  fire,  and  got  along  pretty  well.  The  Indians 
had  some  very  coarse  shorts,  and  we  traded  something,  I 
do  not  remember  what,  for  some  of  it,  intending  to  make 
a  cake  and  bake  it  in  our  frying  pan,  but  it  would  not  make 
dough  that  would  hold  together,  but  fell  apart  like  bran,  so 
we  boiled  it  in  the  tin  pail  and  called  it  mush — however, 
it  was  about  half  way  between  mush  and  soup.  Then  Wes- 
ley took  the  one  remaining  pearl  button,  and  started  out  to 
trade.  He  found  a  squaw  who  had  just  caught  a  large 
white  salmon,  weighing  probably  thirty  pounds,  and  struck 
a  bargain  for  it.  The  squaw,  however,  insisted  on  dressing 
and  cooking  the  salmon,  and  bless  her  that  she  did — it  was 
the  best  job  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw.  She  split  the  salmon 
on  the  back,  then  run  two  or  three  long,  slim  sticks  through 
it  lengthwise,  then  two  or  three  crosswise  to  keep  it  spread 
out  wide  and  flat,  stuck  the  long  ends  of  the  sticks  in  the 
ground,  before  the  fire  and  roasted  it,  then  when  it  was 
cooked,  placing  it  on  a  broad,  clean  piece  of  bark,  withdraw- 
ing the  sticks,  she  placed  it  before  us. 

At  the  risk  of  making  this  too  long,  one  or  two  more 
things  must  be  told.  The  storm  over,  we  were  taken  on 
down  the  river,  landing  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Cascades 
or  lower  falls  of  the  Columbia,  and  then  walking  five  miles 
down  over  the  rocks  on  the  north  side  of  the  river  to  the 
foot  of  the  falls,  where  was  the  little  village  called  the  Cas- 
cades.   Here,  which  was  the  head  of  tide  water,  and  at  that 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  69 

time  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Columbia,  there  was  a 
steamboat,  just  arrived  from  Portland.  The  captain  offered 
to  take  us  to  Portland  and  give  us  dinners,  if  we  would  help 
unload  the  cargo.  This  we  gladly  did,  and  by  a  little  strat- 
agem which  we  worked  on  the  cook,  got  our  supper  also, 
arriving  in  Portland  after  dark.  The  next  morning  Wesley 
and  I  crossed  the  Willamette  river  to  the  eastern  bank,  the 
ferryman  agreeing  to  take  us  over  on  condition  that  we 
would  pay  at  some  future  time  if  we  ever  came  that  way — 
which  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  never  did — it  is  still  due.  We 
went  on  up  to  Oregon  City,  there  being  then  only  one  road 
up  the  river  from  Portland,  and  that  on  the  east  side.  Ar- 
rived at  Oregon  City  our  journey  over  the  Overland  Trail 
was  ended,  and  I  immediately  got  work  and  soon  had  money 
enough  to  invest  in  a  fine  comb — the  thing  of  all  most 
needed. 


70  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  X. 
Wild  Animals  and  Birds  That  Lived  Here. 

It  is  doubtful  which  is  the  worse  habit,  to  read  only 
to  be  amused,  or  not  to  read  at  all.  This  is  a  general  state- 
ment, and  will  not  apply  in  every  case,  because  it  is  entirely 
proper  sometimes  to  read  for  amusement  and  relaxation. 
But  if  the  object  in  reading  is  solely  to  be  entertained,  the 
habit  is  a  bad  one.  One  who  reads  only  to  be  entertained 
or  amused,  and  who  receives  no  instruction  from  what  is 
read,  and  only  skims  along  to  get  the  run  of  the  story,  and 
how  it  turns  out  in  the  end,  injures  his  memory  and  unfits 
his  mind  for  study  or  for  profitable  reading.  All  books 
should  be  written  in  such  style,  and  the  subjects  presented 
should  be  treated  in  such  manner  as  to  be  both  entertaining 
and  instructive.  Such  books  as  entertain  only,  and  do  not 
instruct,  should  in  general  be  kept  out  of  the  hands  of  young 
people,  because,  while  perhaps  not  absolutely  hurtful  in  the 
stories  they  tell,  they  lead  the  mind  in  the  wrong  direction. 

In  preparing  all  these  articles  it  has  been  the  intention 
of  the  writer  to  both  instruct  and  entetrain  those  that  read, 
and  especially  the  young  readers,  who  can  know  nothing  of 
these  things  only  as  they  read  about  them.  This  chapter 
and  two  others  to  follow  will  describe  portions  of  Ante- 
lope county,  and  perhaps  also  other  parts  of  the  state  as 
they  looked  to  the  writer  when  first  seen  by  him;  and  will 
also  tell  something  about  the  wild  animals  and  birds  that 
were  found  here,  and  how  some  of  these  that  were  once 
plentiful  have  entirely  disappeared,  and  how  new  kinds  have 
come  in  and  are  now  making  this  their  home.  It  will  also 
describe  the  habits  of  some  of  these  wild  animals,  telling 
how  they  provide  themselves  with  food,  how  they  guard 
themselves  against  their  enemies,  and  how  they  become  wary 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  71 

and  wild  as  soon  as  they  are  hunted  by  man.  What  would 
I  give  to  go  back  again  to  the  old  times,  and  old  scenes,  and 
old  neighbors  of  forty  years  ago  ?  It  cannot  be !  yet  it  fills 
my  heart  and  my  eyes  full  to  think  of  and  to  write  of  it. 

About  the  28th  of  May,  1869,  we  were  camped  near 
the  east  bank  of  Cedar  creek,  on  the  northeast  quarter  of 
section  27,  Oakdale  township,  on  the  land  now  owned  by 
Antelope  county,  and  known  as  the  county  farm.  "We" 
means  Solomon  S.  King  and  myself,  who  had  come  to  look 
the  country  over,  and  if  we  liked  it  to  select  claims  for  our- 
selves and  for  several  others.  We  had  been  running  lines 
for  two  or  three  days  both  east  of  the  camp  in  Oakdale 
township  and  south  as  far  as  the  center  of  Cedar  township, 
but  had  not  crossed  to  the  west  side  of  the  creek  as  yet. 
It  was  all  new  and  wild  everywhere.  There  were  no  signs 
anywhere  that  there  had  ever  been  a  white  man  in  the  coun- 
try excepting  in  one  place  we  found  where  probably  a  hunt- 
er or  trapper  had  cut  down  a  small  cottonwood  tree  two  or 
three  years  before,  and  excepting  also  the  mounds  and  stakes 
made  and  set  by  the  government  surveyors  two  and  a  half 
years  previous  to  this  time.  It  was  an  ideal  place  to  camp 
anywhere  along  Cedar  creek.  The  water  of  the  creek,  flow- 
ing between  steep  banks,  was  deep  and  cold;  fine  springs 
of  clear,  pure  water  were  numerous;  there  was  an  abund- 
ance of  hardwood  timber,  plenty  of  dry  wood,  good  grass 
and  good  shelter.  We  were  not  on  a  hunting  trip  and  made 
no  effort  to  get  any  game,  except  an  occasional  duck  or 
prairie  chicken,  both  of  which  were  abundant.  There  were 
antelope  in  sight  most  of  the  time,  and  every  day  we  saw 
deer  and  wild  turkeys,  and  there  were  also  tracks  of  elk 
in  abundance,  but  we  saw  none  of  the  animals  themselves. 
We  were  in  a  great  game  country,  but  we  were  hunting 
land,  not  game.  We  thought  we  had  found  just  the  kind  of 
country  we  were  looking  for,  and  we  believed  that  we  were 
the  first  upon  the  ground,  as  we  had  seen  no  signs  of  the 


72  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

white  man  excepting  those  just  aUuded  to,  not  even  the 
track  of  a  wagon,  since  leaving  Battle  Creek,  in  Madison 
county.  There  were  abundant  signs  of  beaver  all  along 
the  creek,  but  we  saw  none  of  the  beaver  themselves  at 
that  time.  There  were  trees  that  had  been  cut  down  by  them 
some  years  before,  some  of  which  we  used  for  camp  fires, 
and  there  were  numerous  fresh  cuttings  of  little  willow  and 
Cottonwood  trees  which  the  beaver  had  drawn  into  the  water 
and  there  eaten  the  bark.  It  is  said  that  the  beaver,  when 
taking  his  meals,  always  sits  with  the  hind  parts  in  the 
water  and  while  this  statement  is  probably  incorrect,  he  no 
doubt  takes  his  food  in  or  near  the  water. 

They  live  mostly  on  the  bark  of  trees,  such  as  cotton- 
wood,  willow  and  poplar  where  it  can  be  had.  They  also 
eat  the  coarse  grass  that  grows  in  low  grounds  and  swampy 
places  along  the  streams.  In  one  place  in  Oregon  many 
years  ago,  while  out  hunting,  I  found  a  grove  of  little  pop- 
lar trees,  situated  about  twenty  rods  from  the  banks  of 
a  small  river.  Here  the  beaver  worked  at  night,  as  is  their 
custom.  They  had  cut  down  many  of  these  trees  which 
were  from  two  to  three  up  to  five  or  six  inches  through,  and 
had  then  cut  them  up  into  lengths  from  a  foot  or  so,  to  four 
or  five  feet  long,  according  to  the  size,  and  then  had  drawn 
the  most  of  them  to  the  river  where  the  bark  had  been  eaten 
off.  There  was  certainly  a  wagon  load  of  these  sticks  in 
a  bend  of  the  river  where  it  was  still  water,  nearly  all  of 
which  were  without  the  bark,  while  in  the  grove  were  a 
dozen  or  more  sticks  just  freshly  cut,  and  all  ready  to  be 
taken  to  the  river,  and  there  were  also  several  sticks  partly 
cut  off  and  two  or  three  trees  partly  cut  down,  but  in  no 
case  was  the  bark  eaten  off  except  from  those  at  or  in  the 
river.  I  have  also  seen  one  place  on  Beaver  creek  in  Wheel- 
er county,  Nebraska,  where  there  was  a  beaver  dam  and 
pond  that  apparently  held  a  large  colony  of  beaver.  There 
was  no  timber  at  all  here,  excepting  some  small  brush,  but 


Buck  Antelope. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  73 

there  were  many  acres  of  swampy  ground  covered  with  big 
grass  and  water  plants  that  furnished  the  colony  with  food. 
While  beaver  generally  do  their  work  in  the  night,  they 
sometimes  are  out  in  the  day  time  but  it  is  difficult  to  get 
a  chance  to  see  them.  I  have  tried  several  times  to  get 
sight  of  a  beaver,  but  succeeded  only  once.  Several  years 
ago  in  Sherman  county,  Nebraska,  I  came  suddenly  and 
silently  upon  a  beaver  sitting  just  at  the  edge  of  a  pond. 
He  was  a  big  fellow,  and  we  did  not  see  each  other  until 
I  was  within  a  dozen  feet  of  him  as  he  sat  at  the  edge  of 
the  water  under  a  bank.  He  made  a  dive  into  the  water, 
and  swimming  across  the  little  pond  went  into  a  hole  under 
water  on  the  opposite  bank.  Beaver  were  quite  plentiful 
here  in  the  early  days,  and  were  probably  found  in  all  the 
streams  of  the  county.  Some  of  them  were  trapped,  but  not 
many.  They  are  very  shy  and  timid,  and  when  persistently 
trapped,  or  when  the  country  begins  to  settle,  they  will 
emigrate  to  new  haunts.  It  is  now  against  the  law  to  take 
them  in  Nebraska  at  any  season,  and  I  hear  that  there  are 
a  few  in  the  thinly  settled  parts  of  the  upper  Niobrara  coun- 
try and  that  they  are  increasing  in  numbers.  There  is  also 
said  to  be  a  colony  of  them  on  the  Elkhorn  river  in  Stan- 
ton county. 

It  was  thought  best  to  take  a  look  at  the  country  on 
the  west  side  of  the  creek,  and  as  my  comrade,  Sol  King, 
could  not  walk  very  far,  from  the  fact  that  he  had  lost  a  leg 
while  fighting  for  his  country  during  the  civil  war,  and  as 
it  was  very  difficult  to  ford  the  creek  with  a  horse,  he  agreed 
to  keep  the  camp  while  I  looked  over  the  country  to  the 
west.  I  went  up  the  creek  about  two  miles  from  the  camp, 
and  crossing  to  the  west  side  on  a  fallen  tree,  placed  my- 
self in  line  with  certain  objects  on  the  east  side  of  the  creek 
that  had  been  marked  a  day  or  two  before,  and  that  could 
be  plainly  seen,  and  tracing  the  line  thus  previously  marked, 
soon  came  to  a  section  corner.     It  will  be  remembered  that 


74  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

this  was  in  May,  1869,  and  that  the  government  survey  was 
made  in  October,  1866,  therefore  it  was  an  easy  matter  to 
trace  the  section  lines  and  locate  the  corners.  The  corners 
in  this  part  of  the  county  were  plainly  marked ;  and  gener- 
ally the  mounds  were  well  preserved,  even  many  of  the  sight 
mounds  could  be  plainly  seen  for  a  considerable  distance. 
These  sight  mounds  were  made  of  sods,  and  were  built  up 
to  the  heighth  of  sixteen  or  eighteen  inches  at  prominent 
places  on  the  line,  as  a  guide  to  the  chainmen.  It  was  thus 
very  easy  to  follow  the  line  and  find  the  section  corners.  Of 
course  the  old  men  living  here  now  who  were  here  forty 
or  more  years  ago,  know  all  about  these  things,  but  I  am 
particular  in  giving  this  description  to  make  it  plain  to  the 
young  people  how  it  looked  here  in  the  early  days.  The 
first  section  corner  that  I  found  was  plainly  defined,  the 
mound  well  preserved,  and  the  four  pits  from  which  the 
earth  had  been  taken  to  make  the  mound  were  only  partly 
filled  with  drift.  The  corner  stake,  however,  had  been 
burned  off  near  the  ground  by  the  prairie  fire  of  the  pre- 
vious fall  and  the  markings  could  not  be  read.  I  went  on 
a  mile  west  to  the  next  corner  where  the  stake  was  standing 
and  in  perfect  condition.  This  was  the  corner  of  sections 
4,  5,  8  and  9  in  Cedar  township,  just  three  miles  east  of  the 
present  village  of  Elgin. 

There  is  no  landscape  scene  in  nature  more  beautiful 
than  a  fertile,  gently  rolling  prairie  in  spring  time  just  as 
it  came  from  the  hand  of  its  Creator.  And  this  spring 
morning  in  the  year  1869  I  was  gazing  upon  a  picture  in 
color,  painted  by  the  hand  of  the  Great  Master,  using  the 
earth  and  the  sky  for  a  canvas,  and  done  in  such  a  master- 
ful way  as  no  other  artist  has  ever  been  able  to  equal,  or 
even  successfully  imitate.  The  earth  was  covered  with  a 
thick,  bright  green  carpet  of  grass  that  waved  and  trem- 
bled in  the  breeze;  there  were  few  if  any  flowers,  for  they 
seek  the  low  grounds  and  the  sheltered  places  along  the  sides 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  75 

of  the  ravines  and  in  the  valleys,  but  flowers  were  not  need- 
ed in  this  scene.  To  the  north  and  west  the  ground  sloped 
gently  upward  to  little  low  green  rolls  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
or  so  away  that  shut  out  a  distant  view  in  these  directions. 
From  the  southwest  around  to  the  southeast  and  east  the 
land  was  at  first  level,  then  there  were  gentle  swells  and 
undulations,  and  finally  away  to  the  south  at  a  distance  of 
six  or  seven  miles  were  the  high  smooth  green  hills  divid- 
ing the  waters  of  the  Elkhorn  from  those  of  Beaver  creek. 
Nearby  in  the  foreground  to  the  southeast  was  a  point  of 
thick  timber  growing  in  and  along  the  sides  of  a  ravine  that 
led  away  to  the  southeast  to  Cedar  creek,  narrow  at  the  near- 
by point  but  broadening  as  it  neared  the  creek,  where  it 
joined  the  strip  of  woodland  that  borders  the  creek  and 
plainly  marks  its  windings  for  five  or  six  miles.  I  looked 
upon  the  picture  before  me  with  admiration,  and  thought 
then  that  I  had  never  seen  a  more  lovely  landscape  nor  a 
more  fertile  soil.  As  I  look  back  upon  it  after  a  lapse  of 
more  than  forty  years,  I  am  now  sure  I  was  right.  But  the 
picture  is  not  yet  complete.  I  sat  down  upon  the  mound, 
and  taking  out  my  memorandum  book,  began  to  jot  down 
the  numbers  and  description  of  the  adjacent  lands.  My 
thought  was  that  almost  anything  in  sight  was  good  enough 
for  a  farm  for  anybody;  and  such  it  was  proven  to  be. 
From  that  viewpoint,  there  was  no  land  in  any  direction 
of  all  the  thousands  of  acres  in  sight,  with  possibly  the  ex- 
ception of  a  half  dozen  rough  quarter  sections,  that  has  not 
since  become  fine,  valuable  and  very  productive  farming 
land.  But  to  complete  the  picture;  while  writing  in  the 
memorandum  book,  I  happened  to  look  down  at  old  Cap- 
tain, the  dog,  he  was  all  atremble  and  crouched  as  if  in  the 
attitude  of  making  a  spring,  and  looking  to  the  north,  there, 
within  thirty  steps  were  five  antelope  looking  upon  us  with 
apparent  wonder.  Probably  they  had  never  seen  a  man 
nor  a  dog  before,  and  were  curious  to  know  what  we  were. 


76  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

The  one  in  the  lead  began  to  stamp  his  fore  feet  at  us,  and 
to  utter  the  peculiar  antelope  cry  of  "tchew  tchew"  which 
they  are  apt  to  do  when  somewhat  alarmed.  Captain  was 
waiting  for  the  word  from  his  master,  for  he  was  trained 
to  wait  until  told  to  go.  They  were  so  near  that  I  could 
have  knocked  one  over  with  bird-shot,  but  I  had  no  gun 
and  we  were  in  no  need  of  meat,  and  it  was  not  the  season 
to  kill  such  game,  and  besides  it  would  have  spoiled  the 
picture.  I  said  to  Captain  ''Go,"  and  he  went  Hke  a  shot, 
but  the  antelope  is  about  the  fleetest  animal  known,  and 
they  were  perfectly  safe.  He  was  a  fast  dog,  but  the  ante- 
lope is  fleeter  than  any  dog  except  possibly  the  greyhound. 
Captain  could  make  an  antelope  get  down  to  business  and 
run  straight,  but  he  could  not  catch  one  in  a  fair  race.  They 
very  soon  all  went  out  of  sight  over  the  little  hill  to  the  north, 
and  I  finished  my  notes  and  was  ready  to  go  when  here 
came  back  the  dog,  his  tongue  hanging  out  of  his  mouth, 
and  not  more  than  thirty  rods  behind  him  were  the  antelope, 
trotting  back  to  complete  their  investigation.  The  dog  lay 
down  lolling  by  my  side,  and  I  waited  to  see  what  the  ante- 
lope would  do.  They  did  not  come  very  near  again,  but 
circled  around,  stamping  and  uttering  their  peculiar  "tchew 
tchew."  Pronounce  this  as  spelled,  with  the  lips  open,  the 
teeth  closed,  forcing  the  air  through  the  teeth,  and  you 
have  it. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  77 

CHAPTER  XL 
Wild  Animals  and  Birds  That  Lived  Here — Continued. 

In  all  the  experiences  of  my  life,  nothing  that  ever  oc- 
cured  to  me,  or  that  came  under  my  personal  observation, 
has  left  upon  my  memory  a  more  vivid  or  pleasing  impres- 
sion than  the  occurrences  related  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
last  chapter.  There  I  was,  a  stranger  in  the  country,  view- 
ing these  scenes  for  the  first  time.  Probably  no  white  man 
had  ever  been  in  that  place  before,  excepting  the  govern- 
ment surveyors.  The  soil  was  no  more  fertile,  the  lay  of 
the  land  no  more  desirable,  the  scenery  no  more  beautiful, 
and  the  location  no  better  than  could  be  found  in  scores  of 
other  places  in  the  county;  but  here,  what  completed  the 
picture  and  made  it  more  beautiful  and  impressive,  was  the 
coming  of  those  antelope  into  the  foreground  of  the  pic- 
ture, being  chased  away  by  the  dog,  and  then  following 
him  right  back  again.  If  there  is  one  word  that  more  than 
any  other  fully  expresses  the  feelings  that  possessed  my 
whole  being  that  morning,  it  is  the  word  ''enchanted,"  and 
this  being  the  fact  is  probably  the  reason  why  it  left  an  im- 
pression of  such  vivid  clearness  upon  my  memory.  There 
were  then,  and  are  now,  many  places  in  the  county  which 
afforded  a  grander  and  sublimer  view  than  the  one  describ- 
ed, but  I  had  not  seen  them  at  that  time ;  in  fact  the  whole 
of  Antelope  county  in  the  early  days,  when  it  was  as  yet 
untouched  and  unmarred  by  the  hand  of  the  white  man, 
presented  a  varied  scene  of  symmetrical  beauty,  grandeur 
and  loveliness  that  could  scarcely  be  surpassed.  How  could 
the  early  settlers  fail  to  be  pleased,  charmed  and  suited 
with  what  they  saw  before  them? 

Many  of  the  wild  plants  that  once  helped  to  adorn  and 
make  beautiful  the  landscape  scenes  are  now  nearly  extinct 


78  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

or  greatly  diminished  in  quantity,  having  been  turned  over 
by  the  plow,  or  trampled  to  death  by  herds  of  cattle.  Prom- 
inent among  these  is  the  wild  sweet  pea  that  was  found  in 
great  abundance  in  the  early  days,  especially  where  the  land 
was  somewhat  sandy,  giving  color  to  the  hillsides,  and  fill- 
ing the  air  with  fragrance.  It  is  eaten  by  cattle  as  greedily 
as  is  the  grass,  and  being  an  annual,  it  is  only  a  matter  of 
time  until  it  will  be  exterminated.  What  a  pity  it  is,  that 
the  white  man  cannot  enter  into  and  possess  a  fruitful  and 
inviting  wilderness,  just  as  God  gave  it  to  him,  without 
destroying  some  of  its  most  charming  attributes.  The  wild 
animals  have  gone,  and  so  have  many  of  the  birds,  the  wild 
flowers  and  the  wild  grasses  have  either  gone  or  are  going 
— only  the  landscape  remains,  but  shorn  of  many  of  its  most 
beautiful  features. 

But  to  return  to  the  wild  things  that  were  found  here 
in  an  early  day;  the  antelope  were  more  numerous  than 
any  others  of  the  larger  animals,  or  in  fact  than  all  others 
combined.  During  the  months  of  May,  June  and  July  they 
might  be  seen  anywhere  on  the  smooth  prairie,  either  a  sol- 
itary one,  or  in  little  bands  of  three  or  four,  or  an  old  doe 
with  her  two  fawns,  or  sometimes  a  drove  of  a  dozen  or 
more.  They  are  animals  of  the  plains,  and  do  not  frequent 
the  rough,  hilly  lands,  nor  the  timbered  tracts.  They  do  not 
hide  from  their  enemies,  nor  seek  to  conceal  themselves, 
but  lie  out  in  the  open  where  they  can  see  as  well  as  be 
seen.  They  depend  wholly  upon  their  senses  of  sight  and 
smell  to  detect  the  presence  of  enemies,  and  upon  their 
fleetness  to  escape.  They  stay  out  in  the  open,  and  do  not 
seek  shelter  during  storms.  They  feed  upon  almost  every 
kind  of  weed  that  grows  upon  the  prairie,  but  eat  very  little 
grass.  I  have  observed  our  own  tame  antelope  many  times 
when  feeding — in  summer  they  would  nip  the  weeds,  leav- 
ing the  grass  untouched,  and  in  winter  would  pick  all  the 
weeds   from  the  hay  leaving  the  grass  uneaten,   and  al- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  79 

though  they  had  access  to  shelter,  they  never  used  it.  The 
vension  of  the  antelope  has  a  very  marked  gamy  taste,  prob- 
ably from  the  fact  of  their  eating  weeds,  and  consequently 
it  is  not  relished  by  most  people  as  well  as  the  vension  of 
deer  or  elk;  however,  some  people,  and  especially  old  hunt- 
ers, prefer  it  to  any  other  meat.  They  were  somewhat  mi- 
gratory in  habit,  and  generally  did  not  stay  here  through 
the  winter  in  great  numbers.  They  would  get  together  in 
large  flocks  in  August  and  September,  and  while  some  would 
remain,  the  greater  number  would  go  west,  to  return  again 
in  April  and  May,  to  rear  their  young  here  during  the  sum- 
mer. They  were  not  very  wild  and  wary  when  found  here 
by  the  first  settlers,  but  they  very  soon  became  so.  I  am 
taking  much  more  space  to  describe  the  habits  of  the  ante- 
lope than  will  be  given  to  the  description  of  any  other  ani- 
mal, partly  because  there  is  a  good  deal  of  misinformation 
concerning  the  antelope,  and  partly  because  our  county  was 
named  for  the  fleet,  graceful  little  animal  that  once  covered 
its  prairies  in  such  numbers.  The  male  antelope  has  horns 
that  when  full  grown  attain  the  length  of  twelve  or  per- 
haps fourteen  inches,  each  horn  supplied  with  one  small 
prong,  hence  they  are  often  called  the  prong-horn.  The 
females  are  hornless.  Unlike  other  animals,  such  as  the 
goat,  sheep,  cow,  buffalo  and  others  that  have  a  hollow  or 
pith  horn,  the  antelope  shed  their  horns  annually.  All  ani- 
mals of  the  deer  family,  such  as  the  elk,  moose,  caribou, 
common  deer  and  many  others  have  solid  horns,  and  these 
shed  their  horns  in  the  winter,  and  grow  them  in  full  again 
during  the  spring  and  summer.  The  antelope  shed  their 
horns  in  the  spring,  the  new  horn  growing  inside  the  old 
one,  and  the  old  shell  becoming  loose,  falls  off.  When  the 
old  shell  is  shed,  the  new  horn  is  soft  and  partly  covered 
with  scattering  hairs.  The  new  horn  soon  grows  to  attain 
full  size,  and  the  outside  hardens,  forming  a  new  shell. 

Knowledge  to  be  valuable  should  be  exact,  but  some 


80  EARLY  DAY  STORIES 

of  our  best  authors  are  frequently  very  inaccurate  as  to  de- 
tails, and  therefore  their  teachings  are  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent  erroneous.  As  a  case  in  point  the  following  in- 
stances will  be  given,  taken  from  Francis  Parkman's  "Cal- 
ifornia and  Oregon'  Trail,"  page  105 :  "As  we  emerged 
from  the  trees  a  rattlesnake,  as  large  as  a  man's  arm,  and 
more  than  four  feet  long,  lay  coiled  on  a  rock,  fiercely  ratt- 
ling and  hissing  at  us ;  a  gray  hare,  double  the  size  of  those 
of  New  England,  leaped  up  from  the  tall  ferns ;  curlew  were 
screaming  over  our  heads,  and  a  whole  host  of  little  prairie 
dogs  sat  yelping  at  us  at  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  on 
the  dry  plain  beyond.  Suddenly  an  antelope  leaped  up  from 
the  wild  sage  bushes,  gazed  eagerly  at  us,  and  then,  erect- 
ing his  white  tail,  stretched  away  like  a  greyhound."  The 
foregoing  sentences  are  elegantly  written  and  are  very  in- 
teresting and  instructive  reading,  but  they  convey  informa- 
tion that  will  be  very  surprising  to  an  old  frontiersman  who 
has  read  little  or  nothing  of  these  matters,  but  whose  stock 
of  information  comes  only  from  personal  experiences.  Who 
ever  heard  a  rattlesnake  hiss?  I  have  killed  hundreds  of 
them,  and  have  talked  with  very  many  persons  who  hav^ 
seen  and  killed  many  of  these  reptiles,  but  I  have  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a  hissing  rattlesnake  except  from 
reading  books.  The  Rocky  Mountain  rattlesnakes  are  not 
noted  for  their  great  size — in  fact  they  are  rather  under- 
sized, therefore  this  one  must  have  been  a  monster  if  the 
measurements  are  correctly  stated.  Who  ever  saw  or  heard 
of  tall  ferns  in  the  foot-hills  of  the  Laramie  mountains, 
where  these  things  occurred?  Ferns  grow  only  in  a  com- 
paratively damp  soil,  and  here  it  was  very  dry — in  fact,  al- 
most a  desert.  Small  ferns  do  grow  higher  up  in  the  Lara- 
mie mountains  where  there  is  more  moisture,  but  even  then 
they  are  not  tall  enough  to  hide  a  hare.  It  would  surprise 
an  old  plainsman  to  see  an  antelope  leap  out  from  the  wild 
sage  bushes,  or  any  kind  of  bushes,  for    antelope    do    not 


Doe  Antelope. 


\ 


^ 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  81 

hide;  and  still  more  to  see  him  raise  his  white  tail,  for  an 
antelope  does  not  raise  his  tail  when  he  runs,  and  if  he  did 
it  would  be  too  inconspicuous  to  be  seen.  And  it  is  equally 
surprising  that  the  antelope  stretched  away  like  a  grey- 
hound— there  are  no  two  animals  whose  modes  of  running 
are  more  unalike  than  the  antelope  and  the  grey-hound.  The 
running  of  a  sheep  and  a  grey-hound  are  as  nearly  alike 
as  that  of  a  greyhound  and  an  antelope. 

It  probably  will  be  considered  presumptuous  for  one 
like  myself  who  is  almost  devoid  of  learning,  to  criticise 
one  of  our  standard  authors;  but  I  shall  risk  the  hazard 
to  my  reputation  to  make  the  following  statement:  If  from 
the  descriptive  works  of  Washington  Irving,  Francis  Park- 
man  and  James  Fenimore  Cooper,  the  misconceptions  and 
exaggerations  were  eliminated,  their  books  would  be  con- 
siderably abridged  in  size,  and  would  be  of  increased  value, 
especially  those  of  the  last  named  author. 

On  either  side  of  the  rump  of  an  antelope  there  is  a 
patch  as  large  as  a  man's  hand  of  snow-white  hair,  which 
is  four  or  five  inches  in  length,  and  that  lies  down  flat  and 
smooth  when  the  animal  is  feeding  or  at  rest;  but  when 
about  to  start  to  run,  which  is  done  with  a  wonderfully 
quick,  light,  springy  bound,  these  patches  of  hair  rise  and 
stand  straight  up.  If  the  reader  should  ever  be  so  lucky 
and  so  happy  as  to  hunt  antelope,  when  the  moment  comes 
when  he  is  trying  to  get  a  shot,  it  will  be  all  right  to  wait 
for  a  better  chance  as  long  as  the  animal  stands  and  gazes, 
or  even  stamps  his  foot  and  repeats  his  "tchew"  "tchew," 
but  •when  those  white  hairs  begin  to  rise — shoot  quick,  or 
you  will  lose  the  chance.  The  antelope  have  their  young 
right  out  on  the  open  prairie,  where  there  is  no  cover  ex- 
cepting grass  a  few  inches  high.  Several  times  I  have 
found  the  young  before  they  were  old  enougli  to  run.  They 
will  then  lie  flat  down  with  the  under  jaw  close  to  the 
ground,  and  ears  flat,  as  though  pinned  down,  and  they 


82  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

will  not  move  if  very  young,  but  will  suffer  themselves  to 
be  taken  up,  without  making  the  least  effort  to  get  away. 
Even  then,  in  very  short  grass  it  is  difficult  to  see  them, 
as  they  lie  so  quiet,  and  their  color  harmonizes  so  perfectly 
with  the  grass.  But  the  days  of  the  antelope  in  Nebraska 
are  numbered — there  are  probably  none  now  this  side  of 
Wyoming. 

There  have  been  no  buffalo  in  Antelope  county,  so  far 
as  is  known,  since  the  settlements  began,  excepting  as  told 
in  the  history  of  the  county.  It  was  not  many  years  before 
the  settlement  of  the  county  that  they  were  very  numerous. 
I  have  never  seen  any  place,  either  in  Nebraska  or  Wyom- 
ing, where  the  skulls,  bones  and  horns  were  more  plentiful 
than  they  were  here  in  1869-70.  The  buffalo  were  very 
gregarious  animals,  living  in  large  herds  and  going  from 
place  to  place  in  search  of  pasture.  Little  need  be  said  here 
about  the  buffalo,  because  their  history  and  habits  are  pretty 
well  known  already. 

The  mountain  sheep  were  probably  never  found  here 
because  the  country  is  not  at  all  suited  to  their  habits.  They 
live  only  in  a  very  rough  mountainous  country.  Seventy- 
five  years  ago,  according  to  the  accounts  of  the  old  hunters 
and  trappers,  they  were  very  plentiful  in  the  Wild  Cat  range 
in  Scotts  Bluff,  Banner  and  Morrill  counties,  and  probably 
also  in  all  the  counties  traversed  by  Pine  Ridge,  as  that 
country  is  suited  to  their  habits. 

The  elk,  and  the  black-tail  and  white-tail  deer  will  not 
be  described  here,  but  will  receive  attention  in  the  next 
chapter. 

There  were  panthers  or  mountain  lions  here  many  years 
ago,  their  range  being  along  the  Elkhorn  and  its  timbered 
branches,  and  no  doubt  they  were  also  then  found  on  the 
Verdigris  in  Sherman  and  Verdigris  townships.  So  far  as 
is  known  to  me,  only  one  has  ever  been  seen  in  the  county 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  83 

since  its  settlement.  At  one  time  Mr.  E.  R.  Palmer,  one 
of  the  first  settlers  in  Cedar  township,  was  out  hunting, 
when  he  started  a  panther  on  the  west  side  of  the  creek, 
and  followed  it  west  nearly  to  the  place  where  Elgin  now 
stands.  The  animal  was  gray  in  color,  as  large  as  a  large 
dog,  had  a  long  tail,  and  ran  with  bounds  like  a  big  cat. 
When  it  stopped  to  look  back  at  him  it  turned  its  head  only, 
and  looked  back  over  its  shoulder,  cat  fashion.  This  is  a 
peculiarity  of  all  the  cat  family — they  turn  the  head  back, 
but  do  not  turn  broadside  after  the  fashion  of  a  deer  or 
elk.  Although  it  was  followed  several  miles,  there  was  no 
chance  to  get  a  shot,  and  it  never  was  seen  here  again.  I 
have  seen  a  panther  that  I  followed  on  the  prairie  and  in 
the  woods  of  Oregon,  many  years  ago,  that  acted  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  way. 

About  fifteen  years  ago  I  went  to  what  is  now  Mor- 
rill county,  Nebraska,  to  examine  some  land  for  an  eastern 
party,  and  had  occasion  to  run  a  section  line  through  some 
rough,  rocky  hills  that  were  covered  with  pine  timber.  This 
was  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Wild  Cat  range,  and 
was  in  fact  just  a  point  or  edge  of  that  range  of  mountain- 
ous country.  It  looked  like  a  fine  game  country,  and  sev- 
eral times  I  ran  across  tracks  of  black-tail  deer.  I  stopped 
with  a  man  who  lived  on  the  smooth  prairie  about  a  half- 
mile  from  this  rough  country,  and  he  told  me  the  follow- 
ing story: 

"There  have  been  two  mountain  lions  living  in  this 
part  of  the  country,  but  I  have  not  seen  them  for  about 
two  years,  and  whether  they  have  been  killed  or  have  left 
the  country  I  cannot  say.  They  probably  have  left,  for  I 
think  I  should  have  heard  of  it  had  they  been  killed.  A 
great  many  people  used  to  come  here  to  get  firewood  and 
timbers  from  the  scrub  pines,  but  they  do  not  come  so  often 
now,  for  a  good  many  have  left  on  account  of  the  dry 
weather,  but  they  used  to  come  from  as  far  away  as  forty 


84  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

miles,  generally  three  or  four  teams  together.  About  two 
years  ago  two  men  came,  having  a  wagon  and  team  each, 
and  stopped  at  my  well  for  water.  They  went  down  into 
the  timber,  got  loaded  up  and  camped  over  night,  being  all 
ready  to  pull  out  in  the  morning.  The  next  morning  they 
had  harnessed  the  horses  and  tied  them  to  the  loaded  wagons 
and  fed  them  their  grain,  and  were  frying  bacon  for  their 
own  breakfast,  when  they  saw  the  two  mountain  lions  not 
far  away,  looking  at  them  and  sniffing  the  air  as  if  they 
smelled  the  bacon.  They  did  not  come  very  near  at  first, 
and  the  men  hooked  up  after  finishing  breakfast  and  pulled 
out,  followed  by  the  Hons.  One  of  the  men  had  a  rather 
small,  short-legged  dog,  and  the  lions  seemed  bent  on  catch- 
ing him.  They  came  up  closer  and  closer,  and  would  have 
caught  the  dog  only  he  kept  right  under  the  front  axle  be- 
tween the  wheels.  One  of  the  men  had  a  loose  chain  on 
his  load,  which  he  would  shake  at  the  lions,  and  this  fright- 
ened them  some,  but  they  followed  on,  almost  to  my  house, 
when  they  turned  and  loped  back  to  the  hills." 

Of  the  smaller  wild  animals  that  were  found  here  when 
the  county  was  first  settled,  some  have  diminished  in  num- 
ber, and  some  have  greatly  increased.  It  was  very  seldom 
that  a  skunk  was  found,  either  the  large  striped  kind  or  the 
small  spotted  variety,  commonly  but  incorrectly  called  the 
civet  cat.  Now  both  varieties  are  numerous.  Racoons, 
badgers,  and  wildcats  are  occasionally  found  now,  but  are 
not  nearly  as  plentiful  as  formerly.  The  fox  squirrel  was 
here  at  first,  but  was  very  rare,  while  at  the  present  time, 
being  protected  by  law,  they  have  greatly  increased,  and 
are  found  in  the  groves  all  over  the  country. 

There  is  one  animal  of  the  fox  kind  that  has  probably 
entirely  disappeared.  It  is  the  small  gray  prairie  fox,  com- 
monly called  the  swift,  so  named  from  the  swiftness  with 
which  it  runs.  It  has  none  of  the  cunning  of  its  relative,  the 
red  fox,  and  is  easily  trapped.     These  animals  were  quite 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  85 

common  in  the  early  days,  but  I  have  not  heard  of  one  hav- 
ing been  seen  for  many  years.  They  are  probably  exter-* 
minated. 

Rabbits  were  very  abundant  in  an  early  day,  both  the 
gray  or  cottontail,  and  the  large  jack  rabbits.  The  cotton- 
tails are  still  almost  as  plentiful  as  ever,  but  the  jack  rabbits 
have  been  very  much  thinned  out  excepting  where  there 
are  large  tracts  of  pasture  land,  where  they  are  yet  quite 
abundant. 


86  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Wild  Animals  and  Birds  That  Lived  Here — Concluded. 

The  black  bear,  the  red  fox  and  the  Canada  lynx  have 
all  been  found  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  state,  in  the  hilly, 
timbered  country  adjacent  to  the  Missouri  river,  but  insofar 
as  has  come  to  my  knowledge,  none  have  been  seen  in 
Antelope  county.  The  otter,  mink  and  muskrat  were  found 
here  when  the  country  was  new,  and  the  mink  and  the  musk- 
rat  are  yet  about  as  plentiful  as  ever,  but  the  otter  have 
probably  nearly  disappeared.  There  was  a  time  when  the 
large  gray  wolves  were  abundant  here — in  an  early  day 
they  were  found  everywhere  with  the  buffalo.  When  the 
buffalo  retired  from  this  country  the  gray  wolves  went  with 
them.  It  is  probable  that  one  was  seen  occasionally  by  the 
first  settlers,  but  it  was  a  rare  occurrence.  The  coyote  or 
prairie  wolf  has  always  been  plentiful  here,  there  seemingly 
being  little  or  no  diminution  of  their  numbers. 

To  sum  up  the  matter:  The  last  of  the  buffalo  were 
seen  here  in  July,  1872;  the  elk  and  the  black-tail  deer  re- 
mained in  diminished  numbers  five  or  six  years  longer;  the 
white-tail  deer  were  very  scarce  after  the  hard  winter  of 
1880-'81,  but  there  was  an  occasional  one  seen  until  the  early 
nineties.  One  was  killed  between  Neligh  and  Clearwater 
by  Geo.  W.  Rapp  of  NeHgh  in  the  year  1891.  A  few  an- 
telope probably  remained  as  late  as  the  year  1880,  but  they 
were  not  numerous  after  1875  or  '76.  The  big  wolves,  what 
few  there  were  here,  left  with  the  buffalo,  and  the  swifts, 
or  prairie  foxes,  were  killed  or  trapped  or  driven  out  before 
the  year  1890.  The  beaver  all  left  the  country  prior  to  1880, 
but  as  it  is  their  habit  to  travel  from  place  to  place  a  few 
have  been  in  the  county  of  recent  years,  and  one  was  trapped 
in  the  Elkhorn  about  the  year  1900.    Now  and  then  an  otter 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  87 

has  been  seen  in  recent  times,  and  the  track  of  one  was  found 
between  Oakdale  and  NeHgh  in  the  year  1910.  The  last  one 
killed,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  was  shot  near  Oakdale  by  V.  E. 
Brainard  in  1887  or  '88.  The  only  panther  ever  seen  in  the 
county  is  the  one  spoken  of  in  the  preceding  chapter.  These 
things  are  mentioned  as  I  have  had  my  attention  called  to 
them,  and  the  dates  given  may  not  be  exact  in  every  in- 
stance, but  they  are  approximately  correct.  Of  course,  some 
of  these  animals  may  have  been  seen  in  the  county  recently 
and  that  fact  may  not  have  come  to  my  knowledge. 

Great  changes  have  taken  place  among  the  birds  that 
made  this  county  their  home,  or  used  it  as  a  stopping  place 
during  their  migrations  in  the  spring  and  fall  of  each  year. 
Some  kinds  have  left  us  entirely — others  are  yet  with  us  in 
diminished  numbers — others  are  as  numerous  as  ever,  or  in 
some  instances  have  actually  increased  in  number,  and  there 
are  a  few  new  varieties  now  becoming  common  that  were 
never  seen  here  in  the  early  days.  Of  the  kinds  that  were 
common  forty  years  ago,  but  that  are  now  rarely  or  never 
seen,  are  the  wild  turkey,  the  raven,  the  magpie  and  the 
curlew.  The  magpies,  however,  are  to  some  extent  coming 
back  again;  for  the  last  two  winters  they  have  been  seen 
in  quite  large  numbers  in  the  timbered  ravines  of  Cedar 
creek.  Of  those  that  were  common  but  are  now  very  rare 
are  the  turkey  buzzard  and  the  plover. 

Among  those  that  have  greatly  diminished  in  num- 
ber are  the  wild  geese,  the  different  varieties  of  brants 
and  wild  ducks  of  many  kinds,  also  prairie  chickens  and 
sharp-tail  grouse.  Occasionally  there  has  been  seen  here 
a  pelican,  a  blue  heron,  a  loon,  and  now  and  then  a  small 
flock  of  white  swans,  but  this  country  is  avoided  by  them 
of  late  years.  Among  those  that  have  greatly  increased  in 
number  are  the  blackbirds,  robins,  bluebirds,  blue-jays, 
brown  thrushes  and  quails.  Among  those  that  have  about 
held  their  own  are  the  meadow  larks,  turtle  doves,  cat  birds. 


88  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

swallows,  martins,  night  hawks,  kingfishers,  kingbirds,  song 
sparrows,  bobolinks,  yellow-hammers,  woodpeckers,  the 
hairy,  the  downey  and  the  red  heads,  and  the  Baltimore  or- 
ioles. Of  the  new  kinds  that  are  now  common,  but  that 
were  either  entirely  unknown  in  an  early  day  or  were  very 
rare,  are  the  wood  thrush,  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  the 
olive  backed  thrush,  the  peewee,  and  the  orchard  oriole. 
There  are  also  two  new  birds  that  we  perhaps  could  well 
do  without — the  crow  and  the  English  sparrow,  but  of  this 
I  am  not  sure.  Of  the  birds  that  are  remarkable  for  the 
beauty  of  their  plumage  or  the  rich  melody  of  their  songs 
that  visit  us  occasionally  may  be  mentioned  the  cardinal 
grosbeck,  the  scarlet  tanager  and  the  mocking  bird.  The 
mocking  bird  is  quite  common  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
state  but  is  rare  here;  I  have  been  hoping  that  they  would 
visit  us  oftener.  About  two  years  ago,  a  Lewis  woodpecker 
was  seen  by  me  for  three  or  four  days.  He  made  his  head- 
quarters in  a  dead  box  elder  tree  that  had  been  left  stand- 
ing for  the  birds,  and  from  which  he  drove  off  a  pair  of 
flickers  that  were  building  a  nest  in  a  cavity.  They  are  rare 
here,  but  are  common  farther  west. 

Besides  those  already  named  we  have  in  great  abund- 
ance the  tohee,  the  junco,  at  least  two  kinds  of  vireos,  the 
indigo  bunting,  the  gold  finches,  the  wrens,  the  horned  larks, 
the  nuthatch,  the  brown  creeper,  the  kill-deer,  the  chickadee 
and  other  kinds  not  so  well  known.  I  have  attempted  to 
name  only  those  that  are  of  the  most  common  and  best 
known  varieties.  There  are  very  many  kinds  of  birds, 
chiefly  small  ones,  that  visit  our  groves  and  thickets  and 
the  tall  grass  and  weeds  of  our  prairies,  that  I  cannot  even 
call  by  name.  Prof.  Lawrence  Bruner  says  that  there  are 
as  many  as  400  different  kinds  of  birds  found  within  the 
borders  of  Nebraska. 

I  wish  that  some  attention  might  be  given  to  the  sub- 
ject of  bird  study  in  every  district  school  in  the  county.    If 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  89 

every  school  district  had  at  least  one  book  that  describes 
accurately  all  of  our  most  common  and  useful  birds,  and 
if  during  the  spring  and  fall  terms  this  book  was  consulted 
two  or  three  times  a  week,  or  even  every  day,  and  the  chil- 
dren taught  to  name  the  different  kinds  of  birds  at  sight 
from  the  description  given  in  the  reference  book,  and  at 
the  same  time  were  taught  the  use  these  birds  are  to  the 
farmers,  it  would  create  an  interest  in  the  subject,  and  we 
would  soon  have  a  county  full  of  bird  lovers,  and  it  would 
result  in  a  great  increase  in  the  number  of  these  friends 
of  the  farmer.  The  county  superintendent  should  see  to  it 
that  some  such  book  as  "Bird  Neighbors,"  by  Neltje  Blan- 
chan,  is  used  in  every  school  district  in  the  county. 

In  early  days  Antelope  county  was  a  poor  man's  par- 
adise. I  doubt  if  the  Garden  of  Eden  was  more  beautiful 
than  was  Antelope  county  before  it  was  desecrated  by  man. 
I  do  not  see  how  the  Garden  of  Eden  could  have  surpassed 
Antelope  county  in  beauty,  for  God  created  both,  and  no 
doubt  pronounced  them  both  good.  The  results  were  dif- 
ferent— in  the  first  case  God  drove  man  out  of  the  garden 
— in  the  second  case  man  drove  out  or  marred  many  of  the 
beautiful  things  that  were  found  in  Antelope  county.  He 
has  driven  out  the  elk,  the  deer,  the  antelope,  the  wild  tur- 
key, the  curlew,  the  otter  and  the  beaver.  He  has  ruined 
the  prairie  grass  and  all  the  most  beautiful  of  the  wild 
flowers;  but  let  him  be  given  credit  for  what  he  has  done 
by  way  of  compensation.  He  has  planted  orchards  and  has 
dotted  the  county  all  over  with  thousands  of  acres  of  planted 
groves,  which  has  partly  changed  the  face  of  the  country 
from  that  of  native  prairie  to  one  of  diversified  prairie  and 
timber,  and  by  his  railroads,  telephones  and  telegraphs  has 
made  communication  easy  with  all  the  rest  of  the  world. 
If  a  strike  occurs  in  the  morning  in  the  coal  mines  of  Wales, 
or  if  the  emperor  of  China  abdicates  his  throne,  or  if  there 
is  an  earthquake  in  Italy,  we  read  of  it  in  the  evening  papers. 


90  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

Therefore  it  may  be  that  things  are  about  evened  up  after 
all. 

The  elk,  the  white-tail  deer  and  the  black-tail  deer  were 
all  found  here  when  the  country  was  new.  They  are  all 
closely  related,  but  they  differ  a  good  deal  in  size,  appear- 
ance and  habits.  I  have  seen  quite  a  good  many  deer  of 
both  varieties  weighed,  after  they  were  ready  to  ship  for 
market — this  means  of  course  with  the  head  and  hide  on — 
but  I  have  never  seen  an  elk  weighed.  A  full-grown,  white- 
tail  buck  when  fat  will  weigh  from  150  to  175  pounds,  and 
sometimes  a  very  large  one  will  weigh  200  pounds — a  full- 
grown  fat  doe  will  weigh  about  50  pounds  less  than  a 
buck.  A  black-tail  deer  will  weigh  about  fifty  pounds  more 
than  the  white-tail  when  in  the  same  condition,  although 
a  very  large  buck  might  weigh  75  pounds  more  than  a 
white-tail.  The  elk  is  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  times 
as  large  as  a  black-tail  deer. 

The  flesh  of  the  doe  elk  is  always  sweet  and  good,  even 
when  the  animal  is  thin,  but  it  is  at  its  best  from  about  the 
first  of  September  to  the  first  of  January.  The  flesh  of  the 
buck  is  good  in  July  and  August,  but  gets  strong  in  taste 
and  smell  by  the  latter  part  of  September,  and  is  almost 
unfit  to  eat  thereafter  for  four  or  five  months.  It  loses  its 
strong  taste  after  a  time,  but  the  animal  remains  thin  in 
flesh  until  about  the  next  July,  The  flesh  of  both  varieties 
of  deer  is  nearly  always  sweet  and  good,  but  sometimes  that 
of  an  old  buck  will  taste  somewhat  strong  if  killed  after 
about  the  first  of  December.  During  the  spring  and  sum- 
mer the  elk  are  scattered  about  over  the  country  in  small 
herds  until  the  fawns  are  six  weeks  or  two  months  old,  when 
they  invariably  begin  to  collect  in  large  herds,  sometimes 
numbering  hundreds  in  a  bunch.  In  Nebraska,  however, 
I  have  never  seen  more  than  sixty  in  a  herd  excepting  on 
one  occasion,  and  generally  twenty  to  thirty  was  about  the 
limit.     In  September  the  old  master  buck  would  drive  all 


Prairie  Hen. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  91 

the  weaker  and  younger  ones  out  of  the  herd,  and  would 
endeavor  to  keep  them  out,  but  this  kept  him  very  busy 
for  a  month  or  two.  When  driven  out  of  the  herd  the 
smaller  and  younger  bucks  get  together  in  twos  and  threes 
and  thus  keep  together  for  company.  A  big  old  fellow, 
however,  who  has  been  the  boss  of  the  herd,  but  has  been 
defeated  in  battle,  keeps  by  himself  and  is  avoided  by  the 
others,  because  of  his  surly,  quarrelsome  disposition.  It  is 
good  sport  to  hunt  and  kill  such  a  one,  for  he  is  almost  sure 
to  furnish  a  fine  pair  of  horns,  but  his  flesh  is  absolutely 
unfit  to  eat.  Along  in  November  they  all  get  together  again, 
and  remain  in  large  herds  until  it  is  time  for  the  fawns  to 
appear  in  the  spring.  The  elk  are  keen  of  sight  and  scent, 
and  they  are  very  difficult  to  approach  excepting  by  those 
who  thoroughly  understand  their  habits  and  peculiarities. 
When  feeding,  if  on  rolling  or  hilly  land  there  are  some  of 
them  always  on  some  of  the  highest  points  where  a  look- 
out can  be  had  in  all  directions.  When  they  lie  down  to 
rest,  they  always  choose  a  place  where  the  lay  of  the  land 
is  such  that  they  can  either  see  or  smell  the  hunter  when 
he  attempts  to  approach  them.  There  will  also  be  some  on 
the  high  points  that  can  see  in  all  directions,  so  that  it  is 
difficult  to  approach  from  any  direction  without  being  dis- 
covered. When  disturbed  they  will  always  run  into  the 
wind,  travel  for  four  or  five  miles,  then  turn  abruptly  to 
the  right  or  left  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so  and  then 
choose  a  spot  similar  in  situation  to  the  one  they  left,  and 
either  go  to  feeding  or  lie  down  again.  It  is  easy  to  find 
them,  because  they  are  large  in  size,  and  generally  go  in 
droves,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  get  near  enough  for  a  fair  shot. 

They  cannot  run  nearly  as  fast  as  either  kind  of  deer, 
but  they  show  more  cunning  in  out- witting  their  enemies 
than  do  the  deer.  The  black-tail  deer's  home  is  in  a  rough, 
hilly  country,  and  they  are  perhaps  about  the  easiest  game 
to  kill  where  they  have  been  hunted  but  little,  that  is  to  be 


92  EARL\  DAY  STORIES. 

found  anywhere  but  when  hunted  much  they  become  very 
watchful  and  exceedingly  difficult  to  approach.  It  is  sport 
to  hunt  them  even  when  not  very  successful,  because  they 
live  where  there  is  wood,  water,  shelter,  grass  and  every- 
thing necessary  to  a  good  camping  ground.  Half  the  pleas- 
ure in  hunting  comes  from  camping  out  in  just  the  right 
kind  of  a  place,  one  quarter  comes  from  rambling  over  the 
country,  seeing  something  new  every  day,  breathing  the 
fresh  air  and  enjoying  the  bright  sunshine  and  one  quarter 
comes  from  looking  for  game  and  shooting  it  if  you  can. 
There  is  no  animal  that  I  have  ever  hunted  that  affords 
more  real  enjoyment  than  the  black-tail  deer.  The  black- 
tail  deer  does  not  seek  to  secrete  itself  by  hiding  in  thickets 
of  brush  or  in  patches  of  big  weeds  nearly  so  much  as  does 
the  white-tail.  It  is  very  apt  to  lie  down  near  the  top  of 
a  steep  hill,  or  sometimes  on  the  very  top,  where  it  can  see 
in  most  directions  and  hear  and  smell  in  others,  and  where 
its  color  so  harmonizes  with  the  surroundings  that  it  is  not 
readily  observed  .  It  is  almost  sure  to  lie  down  where  two 
or  three  bounds  will  take  it  behind  some  object  that  will 
protect  it  from  the  sight  of  the  hunter.  They  are  cunning 
and  know  how  to  take  care  of  themselves  all  right.  Their 
mode  of  running  is  different  from  that  of  the  white-tail. 
They  bound  to  their  feet  in  an  instant  and  spring  away  with 
quick,  rapid  bounds,  raising  all  four  feet  from  the  ground 
at  once,  suggesting  that  they  are  jumping  stiff-legged.  They 
make  rapid  progress,  however,  and  one  has  to  shoot  quickly 
or  lose  his  chance. 

The  white-tail  deer  are  found  on  level  lands  where 
there  is  tall  grass  in  which  they  can  hide — along  the  edges 
of  the  swamps  where  there  are  willows,  cat-tail  flags  and 
coarse  grass — in  hilly  or  rolling  lands  where  there  are  ra- 
vines filled  with  big  weeds,  and  along  all  streams  where 
there  is  timber  and  brush  or  big  grass.  They  were  found 
all  over  Antelope  county  more  or  less,  but  more  especially 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  93 

along  the  Elkhorn  and  its  tributaries,  on  Willow  creek  and 
on  the  Bazile  and  Verdigris.  The  black-tail  deer  were  found 
in  the  rough  hills  in  the  southwestern  part  of  the  county, 
on  the  Verdigris  in  the  northwestern  part,  and  to  a  very 
limited  extent  on  Cedar  creek.  The  elk  traveled  about  from 
place  to  place,  and  were  as  apt  to  be  found  in  one  part  of 
the  country  as  another,  and  frequently  for  months  did  not 
come  into  the  county  at  all. 


94  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
Hunting  Stories — Antelope — White-tail  Deer — Elk. 

When  the  first  settlers  came  to  this  county  there  was 
great  abundance  and  a  great  variety  of  game  here.  Ante- 
lope and  white-tail  deer  were  more  plentiful  than  any  other 
kinds  of  large  animals,  and  elk  and  black-tail  deer  were  not 
at  all  uncommon.  Wild  geese,  ducks  and  brants  were  very 
abundant  every  spring  and  fall,  curlew  and  plover  were  plen- 
tiful in  the  spring  and  summer,  this  country  being  their 
nesting  place,  and  prairie  chickens  and  sharp  tail  grouse 
were  at  home  here  winter  and  summer  in  great  numbers, 
and  wild  turkeys  were  found  along  all  the  timbered  streams 
and  ravines  of  the  county.  The  kind  of  season,  whether 
wet  or  dry,  made  a  good  deal  of  difference  as  to  the  abund- 
ance of  ducks,  geese  and  brants.  If  the  season  was  dry 
they  passed  over  and  did  not  alight  in  very  great  numbers ; 
but  if  the  wet  weather  ponds  were  filled  with  water,  these 
migratory  birds  would  visit  us  by  the  tens  of  thousands. 

Almost  every  settler  had  a  gun  of  some  sort,  either  a 
rifle  or  a  single  or  double  barrel  shot-gun,  all,  of  course, 
being  muzzle  loaders  of  the  old  style,  and  nearly  every  set- 
tler did  more  or  less  hunting.  If  any  were  unable  to  kill 
any  large  game  they  could  at  least  get  a  mess  of  prairie 
chickens  or  ducks,  as  occasion  required.  Some  also  made 
traps  for  catching  prairie  chickens,  and  some  set  small  steel 
traps,  baited  with  corn,  in  the  edges  of  the  wet  weather 
ponds,  for  ducks  and  geese.  Everybody  had  more  or  less 
game,  and  it  helped  out  wonderfully,  especially  whenever  the 
grasshoppers  foreclosed  their  lien  on  our  corn  and  gardens. 
After  the  Indian  raid  in  the  late  fall  of  1870,  fifty  army 
guns  were  furnished  to  a  home  military  company  by  the 
order  of  Gen.  Augur  in  command  of  the  Department  of  the 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  95 

Platte.  These  guns  were  never  called  in  by  the  govern- 
ment, and,  as  they  were  with  one  or  two  exceptions  good 
shooting  guns,  were  of  large  caliber  and  long  range,  and 
as  fortunately  they  were  not  needed  against  the  Indians, 
they  did  come  in  handy  in  enabling  the  settlers  who  learned 
how  to  use  them  to  supply  themselves  and  neighbors  with 
fresh  meat.  Game  in  almost  every  case  was  hunted  only 
to  furnish  a  supply  of  fresh  meat  when  needed.  Deer  and 
elk  were  not  hunted  in  the  spring  or  early  summer,  but 
antelope  were  hunted  at  any  season  when  they  could  be 
found,  but  only  the  bucks  were  killed  in  the  spring-time. 
As  the  antelope  went  west  generally  to  winter  where  there 
was  better  winter  pasture  than  there  was  here  they  were 
in  better  flesh  in  the  early  spring  than  were  the  buck  deer 
— hence  when  we  needed  meat  in  the  spring-time  we  usually 
hunted  buck  antelope.  Of  all  the  game  that  I  have  ever 
hunted,  the  most  difficult  to  approach  is  the  antelope,  where 
they  have  been  worried  and  shot  at  until  they  have  become 
wild.  They  have  a  great  deal  of  curiosity,  and  when  an 
object  that  they  do  not  understand  is  seen  at  a  distance, 
they  will  approach  to  investigate,  but  will  seldom  come  near 
enough  for  a  shot,  unless  in  a  country  where  they  have  not 
been  hunted. 

At  one  time  when  hunting  for  deer  in  a  rough  country, 
having  had  poor  success  in  finding  game,  I  followed  up  a 
ravine  to  the  edge  of  a  smooth  undulating  table-land  that 
was  two  or  three  miles  wide,  thinking  there  might  be  ante- 
lope in  sight.  Peering  cautiously  through  the  tall  grass  that 
fringed  the  edge  of  the  table,  there,  within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  were  five  antelope  feeding.  All  kinds  of  wild  animals 
are  always  on  the  lookout  for  danger.  These  antelope  would 
feed  for  a  half  minute  or  so,  then  raise  their  heads  and  take 
a  look  around  for  possible  danger,  and  then  put  their  heads 
down  again  to  feed.  Some  of  them  had  their  heads  up  and 
were  on  the  look  out  for  enemies  all  the  time.    As  is  always 


96  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  case  they  were  wary  and  watchful.  I  had  a  field  glass 
with  me  and  watched  them  for  some  time.  With  this  glass 
I  could  plainly  see  their  eyes,  and  could  see  the  movement 
of  their  jaws  as  they  chewed  their  food.  They  were  too 
far  off  for  a  shot,  and  there  was  not  the  least  cover  after 
leaving  the  fringe  of  scattering  tall  grass  at  the  head  of  the 
ravine  where  I  lay  concealed.  I  knew  that  if  I  rose  up  thev 
would  be  gone  in  an  instant.  Frequently,  however,  any  kind 
of  game  will  stop  to  investigate  before  running  away  if  the 
object  of  their  suspicion  is  lying  flat  upon  the  ground  so 
that  it  cannot  plainly  be  seen.  I  started  to  crawl  toward 
the  game,  and  although  I  could  see  them  plainly  all  the  time 
through  the  short  grass,  they  paid  no  attention  whatever 
to  me.  I  think  they  did  not  notice  me  at  all,  from  the  fact 
that  the  sun  being  almost  down,  and  at  my  back,  its  bright 
rays  must  have  blinded  their  vision.  It  took  quite  a  while 
to  crawl  forty  or  fifty  rods,  but  I  did  it,  and  got  an  antelope 
at  a  single  shot,  but  they  were  too  far  away  for  a  second 
shot  by  the  time  I  had  thrown  in  another  cartridge. 

At  another  time  I  was  hunting  deer  in  Cedar  town- 
ship, and  not  having  any  luck,  thought  of  trying  a  chance 
at  antelope  in  the  smoother  country  farther  away  from  the 
creek.  Following  out  a  small  ravine  toward  the  head  and 
climbing  a  steep  bank,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  two  or  three 
antelope  just  disappearing  over  a  little  hill  not  more  than 
twenty  rods  away.  Supposing  they  had  seen  me,  I  started 
on  the  run,  thinking  to  get  a  long  distance  shot  when  they 
appeared  at  the  top  of  the  next  rise  of  ground.  But  thev 
had  not  seen  me  at  all,  and  on  coming  to  the  place  where 
I  had  seen  them  disappear,  they  were  found  feeding  in  a 
little  valley  just  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  I  got  one  at  a  run- 
ning shot,  but  had  no  chance  to  get  in  a  second  shot  before 
they  were  out  of  reach.  This  was  in  September — we  were 
out  of  meat  and  this  antelope  was  very  fat — it  was  a  lucky 
kill.     However,  when  a  man  hunts  antelope  in  a  country 


White    Tail    Deer. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  97 

where  they  are  acquainted  with  the  white  man  and  his  long 
range  guns,  he  is  pretty  apt  to  come  home  gameless. 

One  fall  I  was  hunting  in  Garfield  county  and  was 
camped  in  the  sand  hill  country  in  a  big  thicket  of  willows 
at  the  very  head  of  a  little  creek,  a  tributary  of  Cedar  river. 
The  weather  had  been  cold,  somewhat  stormy  and  unpleas- 
ant, and  we  had  been  having  poor  luck,  having  succeeded  in 
killing  but  one  deer,  and  having  found  no  fresh  signs  of  elk. 
There  had  been  five  or  six  inches  of  snow  on  the  ground 
which  had  thawed  and  settled  down  considerably,  but  it  was 
still  a  pretty  good  tracking  snow.  I  struck  out  early  one 
very  cold  morning,  the  mercury,  I  should  think,  being  down 
to  zero,  but  there  was  no  wind,  and  as  walking  is  good  ex- 
ercise there  was  no  difficulty  in  keeping  warm.  After  a 
mile  or  two  of  travel  I  struck  a  fresh  deer's  track  and  fol- 
lowing it  cautiously  soon  started  a  fine  white-tail  doe.  She 
was  lying  down  among  some  little  sand  hummocks,  and  al- 
though she  was  not  more  than  fifty  yards  away,  I  was  not 
quick  enough  to  get  a  shot  before  she  was  out  of  reach. 
Probably  I  followed  the  track  for  five  miles  before  coming 
up  with  the  deer  again,  but  this  time  she  was  on  the  lookout, 
and  saw  me  before  I  was  near  enough  to  shoot.  I  gave  it 
up,  and  as  the  chase  had  led  away  from  camp,  I  faced  about 
and  took  a  direction  that  would  lead  partly  toward  camp. 
Coming  to  the  edge  of  a  little  sand  hill  valley  covered  with 
tall  grass,  I  struck  two  fresh  deer's  tracks  that  were  leading 
up  the  valley  and  directly  toward  camp.  Taking  a  careful 
look  with  the  glass,  I  saw  the  two  deer  about  a  mile  away 
near  the  head  of  the  valley,  and  just  at  the  edge  of  the  tall 
grass.  This  was  my  chance.  When  two  deer  are  found 
together  ,there  is  a  good  chance  to  get  both,  provided  the 
first  one  shot  at  is  killed  on  the  spot.  The  other  deer  will 
then  nearly  always  give  a  few  bounds,  turn  broadside  and 
look  back  for  his  mate;  this  gives  a  splendid  shot  at  the 
second  deer.    If  there  are  more  than  two  deer  together  and 


98  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

one  is  killed,  the  others  will  generally  get  out  as  fast  as  they 
can  without  stopping.  By  keeping  on  the  lowest  ground, 
stooping  over  and  walking  half  bent,  and  part  of  the  way 
going  on  hands  and  knees,  I  managed  to  get  within  fifty 
or  sixty  rods  without  being  seen.  The  ground  now  between 
me  and  the  deer  was  perfectly  level,  and  partly  covered  with 
grass  waist  high.  I  now  made  good  progress  on  hands  and 
knees  without  being  discovered  until  I  was  near  enough  for 
a  long  shot,  when  all  at  once  one  of  the  deer  had  a  glimpse 
of  my  hat,  as  my  body  was  entirely  hidden  by  the  tall  grass. 
I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  trim  my  hat  with  grass,  so 
that  it  was  completely  covered,  but  the  deer  had  seen  the 
motion  of  my  head.  The  nearest  deer  started  at  once  to 
run  toward  me,  followed  by  the  other,  as  they  will  often  do 
when  they  discover  an  object  in  motion  near  the  ground. 
Had  I  been  standing  up  straight  these  deer  would  have  run 
off  at  first  sight,  and  there  would  have  been  little  chance 
for  a  shot.  As  it  was,  the  nearest  one  came  up  within  sev- 
enty-five or  eighty  steps  and  stopped  to  gaze.  Rising  care- 
fully to  my  knees,  with  the  gun  all  ready  for  firing,  I  brought 
the  nearest  one  down  in  its  tracks — the  other  ran  away, 
but  stopped,  turned  broadside  and  gave  a  splendid  chance 
for  a  shot  as  the  tall  grass  did  not  interfere  at  all  as  it  did 
in  the  first  instance.  I  got  both  deer  with  a  single  shot 
at  each,  which  is  doing  much  better  than  usual.  They  were 
white-tails,  a  buck  and  a  doe,  and  both  in  splendid  condi- 
tion. 

Two  things  are  necessary  to  make  a  first-rate  hunter. 
The  first  essential  is,  to  know  how  to  find  and  approach 
the  game — the  second  is  to  be  a  good  shot.  A  man  may 
be  a  first-rate  marksman  and  a  very  poor  hunter;  on  the 
other  hand,  he  may  be  an  indifferent  marksman  and  yet 
be  a  pretty  good  hunter.  To  become  a  successful  hunter 
one  must  study  the  habits  of  the  wild  animals,  must  know 
their  haunts,  how  to  approach  the  game,  and  where  to  ex- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  99 

pect  them  to  go  if  he  lies  in  wait.  He  must  be  quick  of  eye, 
must  love  the  sport,  must  have  patience  and  perseverance, 
and  must  hunt  just  as  carefully  the  last  hour  of  the  day  as 
he  does  the  first,  and  lastily  he  must  be  a  fairly  good  shot. 
However,  he  will  kill  lots  of  game  even  if  he  is  a  poor  shot 
if  he  has  all  the  other  quahfications  mentioned. 

One  fall  in  the  early  days  I  was  hunting  in  Valley 
county,  when  the  settlements  in  that  county  were  very  new 
and  were  confined  almost  entirely  to  the  valleys  of  the 
North  and  Middle  Loup  rivers.  The  rough  hill  country  was 
well  suppHed  with  black-tail  deer;  there  were  also  a  good 
many  white-tail  deer,  and  now  and  then  a  band  of  elk.  I 
have  never  seen  a  better  game  country  anywhere  than  was 
found  in  Greeley,  Valley,  Sherman  and  Custer  counties  in 
the  early  seventies.  There  were  abundant  signs  of  elk,  but 
as  yet  none  had  been  seen.  I  was  hunting  some  very 
rough  breaks  on  the  south  side  of  the  North  Loup,  ten  or 
twelve  miles  above  the  present  site  of  Ord.  I  had  seen 
many  fresh  signs  of  elk,  and  two  or  three  times  had  heard 
them  calling  to  one  another  with  their  long-drawn  musical 
cry,  which  I  cannot  describe.  There  was  no  wind,  and  1 
moved  toward  the  elk  cries  very  slowly  and  cautiously. 
Finally,  just  at  the  head  of  a  deep  blufify  draw,  perhaps  fifty 
rods  away,  I  saw  two  or  three  elk  lying  down  where  they 
could  watch  in  my  direction,  and  just  beyond  there,  but  out 
of  sight,  I  again  heard  calls  of  other  members  of  the  herd. 
The  ravine  at  the  head  of  which  these  elk  were  lying  was 
pretty  well  covered  in  the  bottom  with  big  blue-stem  grass. 
By  going  down  to  the  left  a  short  distance  I  could  keep  out  of 
sight,  and  reaching  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  could  crawl 
up  under  cover  of  the  tall  blue-stem  grass  to  a  position  near 
the  place  where  the  elk  were  lying.  But  the  first  thing  to 
do  was  to  trim  my  hat  with  blue-stem;  this  done,  I  crawled 
on  my  hands  and  knees  toward  the  elk.  I  must  have  gotten 
within  a  hundred  yards  before  they  seemed  to  be  looking 


100  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

in  my  direction,  and  then  they  did  not  get  up  or  seem  to  be 
at  all  alarmed.  They  no  doubt  saw  the  grass  move,  but  could 
not  tell  what  was  there.  I  knew  there  was  no  danger  of 
their  running  away  until  they  began  to  show  symptoms  of 
alarm.  Such  a  time  is  very  interesting  and  exciting.  It  is 
worth  a  week  of  hard  hunting  to  come  to  such  a  moment. 
You  are  almost  sure  of  a  good  shot  and  of  getting  the  game. 
Had  there  been  a  puff  of  wind  in  the  direction  toward  the 
elk  they  would  have  scented  the  enemy  at  once,  but  even 
then  there  was  a  chance  for  a  good  shot  before  they  could 
get  fairly  started  to  run.  But  they  were  not  in  the  least 
alarmed — they  saw  something  moving  in  the  grass,  but  did 
not  know  what  it  was.  Finally  they  got  up  very  deliberately 
and  the  one  nearest  stood  looking,  breast  toward  me.  It 
takes  but  an  instant  to  draw  a  bead  at  such  a  time — the  gun 
cracked,  the  elk  turned,  gave  one  quick  strong  bound  and 
stopped — his  frame  began  to  tremble,  he  tried  to  run,  but 
fell  to  the  ground.  The  shot  had  struck  low  down  in  the 
center  of  the  breast,  and  had  passed  clear  through  the  vitals. 
I  saw  only  three  or  four  of  the  herd,  but  there  was  a  great 
trampling  and  a  clatter  of  hoofs  as  they  got  under  way.  I 
sent  a  shot  after  one  of  the  others  which  crippled  it  badly, 
and  probably  inflicted  a  mortal  wound,  but  I  was  unable 
in  the  rough  ground  and  without  a  dog,  to  find  it.  This 
was  the  largest  elk  I  ever  killed,  and  one  of  the  fattest.  At 
that  time  I  was  working  for  the  land  department  of  the 
B.  &  M.  R.  R.  Co.,  and  the  horns,  a  very  long,  heavy,  twelve 
point  pair,  were  sent  by  the  company  to  England  to  be 
mounted  in  one  of  their  land  offices  in  the  old  country. 

It  is  not  always  easy  to  get  game  even  where  it  is 
abundant.  I  have  hunted  hard  all  day  in  a  good  black-tail 
country  when  the  ground  was  free  from  snow,  and  where 
game  signs  were  plentiful,  without  seeing  a  single  deer. 
When  there  is  a  tracking  snow  of  course  it  is  different,  for 
then  one  can  follow  the  tracks  and  get  sight  of  the  game, 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  101 

even  if  he  does  not  get  a  chance  for  a  shot.  And  besides 
one  cannot  always  bring  down  the  game  even  when  he  has 
a  fair  chance.  Every  fair  shot  will  not  be  a  lucky  one — 
there  are  bound  to  be  a  good  many  misses.  I  would  say 
that  a  man  who  knows  how  to  hunt  game,  and  who  is  a 
fairly  good  shot,  may  think  himself  lucky  if  he  kills  every 
third  time. 


102  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Hunting  Elk  and  Deer  in  Wheeler  and  Garfield  Counties. 

I  am  unable  to  tell  positively  just  when  the  events  oc- 
curred that  are  related  in  this  article.  It  was  about  the 
middle  of  the  seventies,  probably  in  1876  or  1877. 

Some  time  in  the  early  fall,  probably  in  September, 
Mr.  George  Clother,  proprietor  of  the  Clother  House  of 
Columbus,  Neb.,  asked  me  to  bring  in  a  load  of  game  to 
Columbus  for  sale,  stating  that  he  would  buy  for  his  hotel 
the  hind  quarters  of  an  elk,  or  if  elk  could  not  be  had,  he 
would  take  a  deer,  but  elk  was  preferred.  He  said  also  he 
thought  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  selling  a  load  of 
game,  and  that  he  would  help  to  find  a  market  for  it.  I  had 
never  hunted  for  profit,  but  only  for  recreation  and  to  sup- 
ply the  table  with  meat.  We  were  too  poor  to  afford  a 
beef  animal,  if  we  wanted  a  change  in  diet  from  fat  pork; 
and  besides  pork  was  too  scarce  to  be  had  at  all  times  of  the 
year,  so  that  sometimes  we  were  out  of  meat  unless  game 
could  be  had.  These  statements  will  apply  with  equal  force 
to  every  family  in  the  neighborhood  as  well  as  to  my  own. 
It  was  agreed  with  Mr.  Clother  that  the  elk  meat  should 
be  furnished  when  the  weather  got  cold,  either  in  Novem- 
ber or  December,  provided  it  could  be  had  ,and  if  not,  then 
he  surely  might  expect  a  good  fat  deer. 

That  fall  was  favorable  for  husking  corn,  and  it  was 
all  gathered  early,  so  that  by  the  latter  part  of  November 
we  were  ready  to  start  out  upon  the  hunt.  Hank  was  the 
only  one  who  went  with  me,  as  this  trip  was  meant  to  be 
one  of  profit,  and  it  was  not  desirable  to  make  a  division 
of  the  proceeds  among  too  many  partners.  Hank  was  a 
neighbor  whose  homestead  was  just  a  half  a  mile  from  my 
own.    It  was  arranged  that  during  this  trip  his  stock  should 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  103 

be  turned  in  with  mine  to  be  cared  for  during  his  absence. 
What  he  wanted  was  to  get  some  venison  for  his  winter 
supply,  and  he  was  willing  to  go  along  for  a  small  share 
of  the  game  killed.  It  was  therefore  agreed  that  I  should 
furnish  everything  for  the  trip,  team,  wagon,  horse  feed  and 
provisions  for  ourselves,  and  that  I  should  do  the  hunting. 
Hank  on  his  part  was  to  mind  the  camp,  take  care  of  the 
team,  and  do  most  of  the  cooking.  For  his  share  of  the 
game,  he  was  content  to  have  one-half  of  the  fore  quarters 
of  all  game  killed  by  me,  and  to  have  all  the  game  killed 
by  himself;  it  being  expressly  stipulated,  however,  that  his 
hunting  should  not  trespass  upon  his  camp  work,  and  that 
he  should  always  get  into  camp  in  time  to  get  supper  and 
do  the  camp  work  before  it  became  very  dark. 

My  gun  used  on  this  trip  was  an  army  carbine.  Sharp's 
pattern,  being  a  single  shot  breech  loader,  caliber  50-70 — 
as  good  a  rifle  as  I  ever  hunted  with  excepting  possibly  a 
Winchester  rifle  that  was  used  on  several  of  my  hunting 
trips.  Hank  if  I  remember  correctly,  carried  an  old  style 
double  barrel,  muzzle  loading  shot  gun  with  percussion  lock. 
I  think  it  was  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  and  even  if  it 
was  old  and  out  of  style,  it  was  still  a  good  gun  of  its  kind. 
He  expected  to  get  some  grouse  with  it  anyway  even  if  he 
did  not  succeed  in  getting  deer.  On  a  hunting  trip  grouse 
come  in  first  rate  as  an  agreeable  change  of  diet. 

Possibly  I  feel  more  vividly  and  hear  more  plainly  the 
"call  of  the  wild,"  than  do  my  neighbors  of  the  present  day. 
Whether  this  is  so  or  not  I  do  not  know,  or  whether  this 
trait  in  me  was  inborn  or  acquired  I  cannot  tell;  nor  does 
it  matter,  but  that  I  have  it  in  an  eminent  degree  is  unde- 
niable. I  hearken  back  to  those  old  times  with  feelings  of 
unmingled  pleasure,  not  to  say  of  rapture.  Let  us  drop  the 
thread  of  this  story  for  a  moment  and  go  back  to  those 
golden  days  of  the  olden  time.  You  may  say  that  it  is  the 
reverie  of  an  old  man  who  has  already  passed  his  80th  birth- 


104  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

day,  and  it  may  be  so,  but  if  it  be  a  dream,  it  is  a  pleasant 
one.  Bear  in  mind  that  we  are  now  considering  conditions, 
as  they  existed  in  1876  and  1877,  but  the  statements  now 
to  be  made  will  apply  equally  as  well  to  1878  and  1879. 

The  very  strenuous  days  of  the  first  years  that  attend- 
ed the  settling  of  the  county  had  passed  away.  The  In- 
dians were  no  longer  troublesome — the  "grasshopper"  had 
almost  ceased  to  be  a  "burden,"  and  the  ravages  of  the 
April  storm  of  1873,  the  worst  ever  known  in  the  history 
of  the  state,  were  but  a  memory.  Better  times  had  already 
come  to  our  new  settlements,  and  still  brighter  days  were 
in  prospect.  There  was  a  buo3^ancy  of  spirit  and  a  pervad- 
ing feeling  of  hope  and  expectancy  that  thrilled  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  the  people  of  the  community  to  a  much  great- 
er degree  than  is  apparent  at  the  present  time.  There  was 
a  community  of  interest  and  a  brotherhood  of  feeling  that 
warmed  the  hearts  of  the  people  toward  one  another,  and 
that  prompted  unusual  interest  in  each  other's  welfare. 
People  still  lived  in  log  houses,  in  sod  houses  and  in  dug- 
outs, but  they  saw  that  this  would  not  always  be.  They 
looked  for  better  things  than  they  then  possessed,  and  felt 
sure  of  their  coming.  The  soil  had  been  productive  beyond 
their  greatest  expectations,  and  although  they  did  not  ex- 
pect to  live  to  see  their  farms  worth  a  hundred  dollars  an 
acre,  they  did  hope  to  soon  have  good  improvements  on 
these  farms,  and  to  have  all  the  other  accessories  of  older 
communities,  such  as  a  railroad,  market  towns  near  by,  and 
schools,  churches  and  good  roads.  If  they  did  not  then 
possess  all  the  conveniences  and  luxuries  of  our  communi- 
ties of  the  present  day  they  were  also  free  from  many  of 
our  present  ills  and  afflictions.  There  were  no  mortgages 
falling  due,  for  the  loan  agents  had  not  yet  invaded  this 
territory.  If  they  had  no  automobiles  to  get  out  of  fix  and 
to  vex  and  worry  the  owners  and  spoil  their  tempers,  they 
did  have  good  driving  teams  and  good  saddle  horses.  There 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  105 

was  no  cornstalk  disease  among  the  cattle  nor  cholera  to  kill 
off  the  hogs.  If  they  only  had  a  weekly  or  semi-weekly 
mail,  they  needed  no  other,  for  this  mail  brought  to  them 
the  New  York  Weekly  Tribune  and  Harpers'  Magazine  for 
the  old  people,  and  Youth's  Companion  and  St.  Nicholas 
for  the  young  folks.  Their  mode  of  life  tended  to  create 
sound  minds  in  sound  bodies,  and  thus  to  promote  ardent, 
hopeful  temperaments.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  future  held 
out  greater  promise  to  the  people  of  that  day  from  their 
viewpoint  than  it  does  to  the  people  of  today  from  their 
viewpoint.  But  of  this  I  leave  the  intelligent  reader  to 
judge. 

But  to  resume  the  story: 

Everything  had  been  arranged  the  day  before  so  that 
the  morning  we  were  to  start  out,  all  that  was  necessary 
to  do  was  to  load  up  and  be  off.  It  was  the  intention  to  go 
southwest  to  the  big  Cedar  river,  striking  it  in  Greeley 
county,  and  to  follow  it  up  until  a  good  hunting  ground 
was  found.  We  did  finally  go  to  the  head  of  the  Cedar  in 
what  is  now  Garfield  county,  but  was  then  attached  to 
Wheeler  county.  Camp  was  made  the  first  night  in  a  grove 
of  ash  trees  among  the  rough  hills  in  the  northern  part  of 
Greeley  county.  It  was  a  dry  camp,  but  the  horses  had 
been  watered  at  the  crossing  of  Beaver  creek,  and  we  could 
melt  snow  for  coffee.  The  night  was  cold,  but  we  had 
plenty  of  blankets  and  buffalo  robes  as  well  as  good  fire- 
wood, and  the  horses  were  blanketed  as  was  usually  the 
case  on  such  trips.  It  snowed  some  during  the  day,  and 
continued  to  snow  a  little  through  the  night,  so  that  in  the 
morning  the  ground  was  covered  to  the  depth  of  about  two 
inches. 

The  next  morning  going  on  toward  the  west.  Hank 
drove  the  team,  while  I  carried  the  rifle,  going  on  ahead 
to  get  a  shot  if  any  game  should  be  seen.  Several  deer 
were  started,  but  no  chance  for  a  shot.    The  weather  was 


106  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

cold  and  growing  colder  all  the  time,  so  that  we  were  bofh 
glad  to  go  afoot  most  of  the  day.  Toward  night  the  weath- 
er cleared,  but  the  northwest  wind  continued  to  blow  strong, 
and  the  cold  to  increase.  Coming  to  the  Cedar  valley  several 
miles  above  the  place  where  Spalding  now  stands,  we  found 
a  sod  house  and  stable,  the  last  up  the  valley  at  that  time. 
The  weather  had  become  so  very  cold,  and  there  being  no 
good  camping  place  close  by,  we  asked  for  lodgings  for  the 
night  and  were  refused.  This  was  a  surprise,  because  at 
that  early  day  a  stranger  was  supposed  to  be  always  wel- 
come. The  place  was  occupied  by  two  young  men,  recently 
from  the  east,  who  were  not  yet  used  to  the  ways  of  our 
western  world.  The  case  was  argued  for  a  little  while  and 
finally  reluctant  consent  to  remain  over  night  was  given 
Before  bed  time  we  had  become  acquainted  and  were  good 
friends.  The  next  morning  we  were  invited  to  stay  until 
the  weather  moderated.  At  that  time  the  mercury  fell  to 
twenty-two  degrees  below  zero,  so  I  afterwards  learned, 
and  the  northwest  Vv^nd  did  not  fail  us.  We  stayed  two 
days  and  three  nights  during  which  time  I  did  some  hunt- 
ing in  the  rough  hills  nearby,  but  without  result  except 
that  it  furnished  exercise  and  an  appetite. 

The  third  morning,  the  weather  having  moderated,  we 
pulled  out  up  the  river  valley  to  the  northwest.  There  was 
no  sign  of  a  road,  nor  had  there  been  since  crossing  Beaver 
creek  at  Whipple's  Ford  in  Boone  county,  a  few  miles  above 
the  present  village  of  Loretto.  We  did  not  stop  to  hunt 
at  all,  nor  did  we  see  many  signs  of  game  until  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  when  six  or  eight  miles  above  the  present 
village  of  Ericson,  in  Wheeler  county,  a  white-tail  doe 
jumped  out  of  the  tall  slough  grass  near  the  river  and  stop- 
ped to  look.  She  waited  too  long,  for  one  shot  brought  her 
down.  Going  on  a  short  distance,  a  black-tail  buck  was 
seen  in  the  low  sand  dunes  about  half  a  mile  away.  It  was 
not  yet  camping  time,  but  as  it  would  take  some  time  to  try 


Coyote. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  107 

for  the  deer,  it  was  decided  that  Hank  should  make  camp 
while  I  tried  my  luck  for  a  shot.  It  proved  to  be  easier  than 
was  supposed — the  deer  was  reached  by  crawling  on  hands 
and  knees  under  cover  of  a  low  knoll,  and  was  killed  at  a 
single  shot.  Camp  was  made  and  the  deer  brought  in  be- 
fore dark.  This  was  luck — pure  luck.  We  were  traveling 
up  the  valley  as  fast  as  the  team  could  walk  but  were  not 
hunting,  and  we  found  these  two  deer  without  effort  on 
our  part.  Wood  was  not  to  be  had  at  this  camp,  and  fire 
was  made  of  coarse  slough  grass,  cut  with  our  butcher 
knives,  and  twisted  into  knots  or  little  bundles  before  burn- 
ing. 

Next  day  we  crossed  what  is  now  the  east  line  of  Gar- 
field county,  and  made  camp  in  a  thick  bunch  of  willows. 
Signs  of  deer  had  become  plenty,  and  there  were  also  elk 
tracks  not  very  old.  We  did  not  unload  the  wagon,  but 
blanketing  the  horses  and  putting  them  on  picket  ropes,  we 
ate  luncheon  and  went  off  north  together  to  prospect  for 
game.  There  were  signs  of  elk  and  deer,  and  we  concluded 
that  the  right  place  had  been  found.  About  two  miles  from 
camp  a  black-tail  buck  jumped  out  from  behind  a  knoll  and 
starting  to  run  was  brought  to  the  ground  by  one  shot  from 
my  rifle.  The  buck  was  dragged  to  camp  by  hand,  the  job 
being  an  easy  one  as  the  snow  here  was  deeper  than  it  was 
further  down  the  valley.  The  camp  was  made  quickly;  an 
old  rag  carpet  stretched  over  eight  little  straight  poles  cut 
from  the  timber  on  my  homestead,  being  used  as  a  substi- 
tute for  a  regular  tent.  Nobody  of  my  acquaintance  at  that 
time  was  rich  enough  to  afford  a  genuine  canvas  tent.  How- 
ever, our  little  tepee  was  comfortable.  An  opening  was 
made  by  turning  back  the  edges  of  the  carpet  on  one  side, 
and  in  front  of  this  opening  was  the  fire.  We  now  had 
everything  necessary  for  a  good  camp — a  comfortable  sub- 
stitute for  a  tent,  good  shelter  from  the  winds  afforded  by 
the  thick  brush,  water  and  grass  handy,  and  plenty  of  dead 


108  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

willows  for  fuel.  A  pole  was  planted  on  a  knoll  nearby, 
and  on  this  was  hung  a  grain  sack  as  a  signal  to  locate  the 
camp,  as  the  tepee  was  hidden  by  the  willows. 

The  next  morning  I  got  an  early  start,  taking  along  a 
luncheon  and  going  west  to  hunt  elk,  although  deer  would 
be  welcome  if  elk  were  not  found.  The  country  was  sand 
hill,  in  some  places  consisting  of  low  knolls  and  little  flats, 
in  others  of  big  sand  hills  with  blow-outs  where  the  drift- 
ing sands  had  been  scooped  out  by  the  winds,  and  in  other 
places  still,  wide  flats  covered  with  heavy  grass  .  I  had 
not  gone  far,  when  on  rising  a  little  knoll  I  was  met  by 
a  coyote  coming  on  the  run  from  the  opposite  direction.  I 
was  surprised  at  the  suddenness  of  his  appearance  and  he 
was  badly  scared.  Turning  quickly  aside  he  ran  off  in  a 
different  direction.  I  thought  I  would  try  my  luck  at  a 
running  shot,  and  to  my  surprise  the  shot  brought  him 
down.  Taking  off  the  skin  and  tying  it  up  in  as  small  a 
bundle  as  possible  so  as  to  carry  it  easily  I  went  on.  Soon 
there  were  fresh  signs  of  elk  and  going  on  slowly,  and  hunt- 
ing carefully,  a  band  of  thirty-six  was  found  about  four 
miles  from  camp.  They  were  in  a  difficult  place  to  ap- 
proach, but  I  was  not  sorry  for  this,  because  there  is  much 
more  satisfaction  in  getting  game  when  one  has  to  work 
hard  for  it  than  when  it  is  easily  done.  They  were  directly 
west,  and  on  the  farther  side  of  a  level  hay  flat  that  was 
half  a  mile  wide.  On  the  west  and  north  of  the  herd  were 
low,  sandy  knolls,  on  the  south  and  southwest  rather  high 
sand  ridges.  The  wind  was  moderate  and  was  blowing  from 
the  southwest.  The  only  way  to  reach  them  was  to  go 
north,  then  west  and  then  come  in  from  the  northwest  under 
cover  of  the  low  knolls.  It  took  a  long  time,  the  distance 
to  be  traveled  being  about  two  miles,  and  in  some  places 
this  had  to  be  done  on  hands  and  knees.  Finally  under 
cover  of  big  grass  and  a  small  knoll  a  good  chance  was  had 
for  a  shot.    By  this  time  nearly  all  were  lying  down,  some 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  109 

in  the  tall  grass,  and  others  on  the  knolls  where  they  could 
watch  for  enemies.  My  cap  had  been  trimmed  with  grass, 
and  my  hunting  jacket  of  brown  denim  was  dead  grass  color. 
Carefully  I  crawled  to  the  top  of  the  little  knoll  that  had 
afforded  shelter,  poked  the  rifle  barrel  through  the  scattered 
stalks  of  grass  in  front,  reached  forward  with  the  left  hand 
to  remove  some  grass  leaves  from  between  the  sights,  then 
took  a  peep  along  the  gun  barrel  to  see  that  everything 
was  clear  .  This  was  a  very  interesting  and  a  very  exciting 
moment,  but  everything  had  to  be  done  with  great  delibera- 
tion, for  a  quick  movement  would  alarm  a  large  cow  elk 
that  was  lying  on  top  of  a  little  knoll  not  more  than  seventy- 
five  steps  away,  and  was  looking  right  towards  me,  but 
whether  she  had  seen  me  or  not  I  could  not  tell.  Every- 
thing was  ready — I  was  sure  of  that  elk.  The  sight  was 
quickly  caught,  the  trigger  pulled,  and  I  saw  the  hair  curl 
on  the  breast  of  the  elk  where  the  bullet  struck,  and  heard 
the  "thud"  of  the  ball  as  it  went  home.  The  elk  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  was  off  in  an  instant  with  the  balance  of  the 
herd,  but  I  knew  she  could  not  go  far.  I  did  not  stop  to 
watch — I  knew  from  the  lay  of  the  land  and  the  direction 
of  the  wind  just  where  the  herd  would  run,  and  throwing 
in  another  cartridge  I  ran  south  a  short  distance,  gaining 
the  top  of  a  low  ridge  just  in  time  to  see  the  elk  filing  by 
in  the  narrow  valley  before  me.  They  were  still  very  close, 
and  two  more  shots  in  quick  succession  brought  down  two 
more  elk.  The  one  hit  at  the  first  shot  had  now  left  the 
others,  and  going  a  few  steps  to  one  side  had  partly  fallen 
and  partly  lain  down.  A  shot  through  the  head  soon  after 
finished  her.  A  parting  shot  was  given  the  herd  when  they 
were  some  distance  away  and  another  elk  was  slightly 
wounded,  but  as  it  kept  up  with  the  herd  and  bled  very  little 
I  followed  only  a  short  distance.  By  the  time  the  three  elk 
were  dressed,  which  in  itself  was  quite  a  job,  it  was  night 
and  I  was  four  miles  from  camp. 


no  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

On  the  way  to  camp  four  white-tail  deer  were  jumped 
up  only  a  little  way  off  to  one  side,  and  I  fired  twice  at 
them  by  moon  light  but  without  danger  to  the  deer.  When 
within  a  mile  of  camp  I  came  in  sight  of  a  fire  that  Hank 
had  built  on  a  hill  to  light  me  in,  having  carried  brush  on 
his  shoulders  a  quarter  of  a  mile  for  that  purpose.  The 
venison  steak  for  supper  that  night  was  well  cooked,  juicy 
and  delicious,  the  pancakes  were  excellent  and  the  coffee 
never  better.  Hank  had  had  good  luck  too,  having  brought 
down  a  fine  white-tail  buck  with  his  shotgun.  We  now 
had  a  good  load,  four  deer  and  three  elk,  and  the  next  day 
after  bringing  in  the  game,  we  started  for  home  by  the 
most  direct  route,  going  back  through  the  southern  part  of 
Holt  county  about  a  mile  south  of  Willow  lake. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  Ill 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Hunting  Elk  and  Deer  in  Custer  County. 

It  was  the  second  week  in  November,  1872,  while  we 
were  in  camp  on  Oak  creek  in  the  western  part  of  Howard 
county,  Nebraska,  that  the  events  occurred  that  are  herein 
related.  Belonging  to  our  camp  were  twelve  persons — four 
surveyors,  four  assistants,  two  teamsters,  one  camp  helper, 
and  a  cook.  Five  of  these  were  from  Antelope  county; 
namely,  George  H.  McGee,  Bob,  Will  and  Charley  Skiles 
and  myself;  all  the  others  were  from  Columbus,  Nebraska, 
excepting  one  young  man  from  Omaha.  The  company  was 
in  charge  of  I.  N.  Taylor,  then  of  Columbus,  but  later  of 
Antelope  county,  and  who  afterwards  became  well  known 
to  many  of  the  early  settlers  of  this  part  of  the  state.  At 
this  time  Mr.  Taylor  was  a  member  of  the  State  Immigra- 
tion Board,  its  headquarters  being  in  Omaha.  The  duties 
of  this  office  called  him  to  Omaha  occasionally,  and  as  he 
was  required  to  go  to  Lincoln  to  confer  with  the  officials 
of  the  land  department  of  the  B.  &  M.  railroad  company, 
it  happened  that  he  was  away  from  camp  about  half  the  time. 
Whenever  Mr.  Taylor  was  called  away  from  camp  to  be 
gone  a  few  days,  he  would,  before  going,  call  the  four  sur- 
veyors into  his  tent  and  give  them  instructions  about  the 
work  to  be  done  in  his  absence,  but  he  never  placed  any  one 
in  charge  of  the  camp.  This  was  an  unfortunate  mistake 
on  his  part.  There  were  two  or  three  men  in  camp  who  were 
shiftless,  and  who  would  shirk  duty  at  any  time  when  they 
could,  and  these  men  were  almost  worthless  in  Mr.  Taylor's 
absence.  He  ought  when  absent  to  have  left  George  H. 
McGee  in  charge — he  was  equally  as  competent  as  Mr.  Tay- 
lor himself,  and  was  popular  with  us  all. 


112  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

Let  me  here  pay  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of  George  H. 
McGee,  not  by  way  of  praise,  but  as  a  deserved  encomium. 
Work  in  the  field  such  as  ours  was  at  that  time,  brings  out 
and  shows  off  all  the  qualities  of  the  man,  whether  good  or 
bad.  We  were  in  camp  together  that  fall  for  seventy-five 
days,  and  I  got  to  know  Mr.  McGee  well.  He  was  thought- 
ful and  deliberate,  always  displaying  under  all  circumstances 
an  unruffled  temper  and  a  genial  disposition.  He  was  one 
of  the  strong,  true  men  among  those  who  settled  Antelope 
county. 

Our  work  was  to  survey  and  plat  the  lands  belonging 
to  the  B.  &  M.  railroad  company.  The  plats  were  intended 
to  show  the  topography  of  each  quarter  section,  and  the  field 
notes  accompanying  these  plats  were  to  describe  the  quality 
of  the  soil,  and  to  give  the  comparative  value  of  each  quar- 
ter section  for  farming  purposes. 

The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that  the  year  1872  was  a 
very  early  day  in  the  history  of  Nebraska.  All  central  Ne- 
braska at  that  time,  excepting  a  narrow  strip  along  the  U.  P. 
railroad,  was  either  wholly  unsettled  or  just  beginning  to 
settle  up.  Oakdale  contained  only  four  or  five  houses — 
Neligh  had  not  even  been  platted — Albion  had  three  or  four 
houses  and  was  called  Hammond.  There  was  not  a  village 
in  Greeley,  Valley  nor  Sherman  counties,  and  St.  Paul, 
Howard  county,  was  just  starting.  Our  field  work  when 
it  first  began  on  the  second  day  of  September,  was  within 
the  limits  of  the  scattered  settlements,  but  for  the  last  four 
weeks  the  work  had  taken  us  just  to  or  beyond  their  west- 
ern border. 

The  work  was  not  hard  or  difficult,  and  the  outdoor 
life  was  very  agreeable.  Very  seldom,  if  ever,  have  I  put 
in  the  time  for  two  months  and  a  half  at  any  kind  of  work 
that  was  more  congenial  to  my  nature  than  this  work  in  the 
fall  of  1872.     Besides  we  were  seeing  a  country  that  was 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  113 

new  to  us,  and  were  becoming  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  character  of  the  country  over  which  we  traversed  and 
worked.  The  table  was  well  supplied,  Mr.  Taylor  seeing 
to  it  that  in  addition  to  bacon  and  salt  pork,  a  quarter  or 
half  a  beef  was  provided  when  needed.  However,  as  the 
extreme  frontier  was  approached  game  became  plentiful,  and 
Mr.  Taylor  finding  that  my  rifle  could  be  depended  upon 
to  supply  the  camp  with  venison,  had  quit  sending  off  for 
fresh  beef,  and  he  expected  me  to  supply  the  outfit  with  fresh 
meat.  As  game  was  easy  to  get,  it  was  not  difficult  gen- 
erally to  do  this  in  addition  to  doing  my  regular  work.  My 
rifle  would  be  taken  along,  either  by  myself  or  helper,  and 
when  game  was  killed,  some  one  would  be  sent  out  to  bring 
it  into  camp.  However  during  the  first  week  in  November 
we  were  out  of  venison  and  had  to  come  down  to  salt  pork, 
the  bacon  also  having  been  exhausted.  By  extra  exertion, 
however,  I  succeeded  in  killing  a  deer,  and  marked  the  place 
so  it  could  be  found  next  day  by  one  of  the  men  from  camp. 
Mr.  Taylor  at  this  time  was  away  on  a  trip  to  Lincoln  and 
the  men  left  in  camp  refused  to  go  after  the  deer,  it  being 
in  a  somewhat  difficult  place  to  reach,  as  a  bad  creek  had 
to  be  crossed.  I  was  vexed,  and  expressing  my  opinion  in 
language  more  emphatic  than  complimentary  of  the  men 
whose  place  it  was  to  go  after  the  venison  and  would  not, 
threw  down  my  rifle  declaring  I  would  not  carry  it  another 
day — they  might  eat  salt  pork.  My  work  the  next  day  would 
lead  me  in  a  different  direction,  but  Mr.  McGee,  whose  work 
would  take  him  within  three  or  four  miles  of  the  deer,  vol- 
unteered to  bring  it  to  camp.  This  he  did,  he  and  his  as- 
sistant carrying  it  a  considerable  distance  to  the  place  where 
they  had  left  a  team.  I  think  everybody  in  camp  was  more 
or  less  upset  over  this  episode,  excepting  Mr.  McGee,  whose 
even  temper  continued  as  calm  and  placid  as  ever.  When 
Mr.  Taylor  returned  this  deer  was  about  all  used  up,  and 
we  were  on  the  brink  of  getting  back  to  salt  pork  again.    I 


114  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

had  kept  my  word  and  had  not  used  the  rifle  again  at  all, 
although  two  or  three  others  had  borrowed  it  without  any 
success  in  getting  game.  I  did  not  intend  to  say  anything 
about  it  to  Mr.  Taylor,  but  on  his  return  someone  told  him, 
explaining  why  we  were  out  of  fresh  meat.  Mr.  Taylor 
sent  for  me  and  I  went  to  his  tent,  partly  expecting  a  repri- 
mand for  not  using  my  rifle.  However,  he  said  nothing 
about  it,  but  explained  that  I  was  to  start  the  next  morning, 
with  Bob  Skiles  as  my  helper,  for  the  valley  of  the  Middle 
Loup  river,  in  Sherman  county,  to  examine  and  report  on 
the  timber  found  on  railroad  land.  He  instructed  me  to  first 
make  the  necessary  examination,  and  then  to  hunt  until  we 
had  killed  a  load  of  game  for  the  camp.  That  is  how  there 
happens  to  material  for  this  story. 

Getting  an  early  start  next  morning  we  followed  up 
the  valley  of  Oak  creek  seven  or  eight  miles,  passing  the 
place  where  the  village  of  Ashton  now  stands,  and  then 
turning  to  the  southwest  made  our  way  over  the  rough 
divide  for  about  twelve  miles  to  Middle  Loup  valley.  We 
had  a  team  of  horses  and  a  wagon  to  carry  the  camping  out- 
fit and  bring  back  the  game  that  it  was  expected  would  be 
killed.  Of  course  we  took  none  of  the  small  supply  of  veni- 
son still  left  in  camp,  there  not  being  a  quarter  enough  to 
last  the  camp  until  our  return.  We  expected  to  get  a  deer 
before  reaching  the  Loup  valley,  but  none  were  seen,  and 
game  signs  were  scarce.  We  struck  the  Middle  Loup  a 
mile  or  two  below  the  present  site  of  Loup  City,  where  there 
was  a  Cottonwood  grove  in  which  we  encamped.  While  Bob 
put  out  the  team  and  made  camp,  I  started  out  with  the  com- 
pass and  tripod  to  find  a  section  corner  and  get  a  start  to 
begin  work.  This  was  easy,  for  the  survey  was  new,  hav- 
ing been  done  only  a  few  years  before,  and  the  government 
mounds  were  plain  and  most  of  the  corner  stakes  stand- 
ing; and  besides  the  prairie  had  been  burned  only  a  few 
weeks  before  which  exposed  the  mounds     that     otherwise 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  115 

would  have  been  hidden  by  the  grass.  The  job  of  locating 
and  examining  the  timber  was  a  short  one  and  was  com- 
pleted in  two  or  three  days.  There  was  no  game  seen,  how- 
ever, while  we  were  at  work,  and  only  an  occasional  fresh 
track.  It  had  all  left  the  burned  over  country.  I  was  glad 
of  this,  for  now  in  going  up  the  valley  to  find  a  good  hunt- 
ing ground,  there  would  be  a  chance  to  explore  some  new 
country. 

Following  up  the  valley  several  miles  we  found  a  tract 
that  was  not  burned  over,  in  the  southwest  corner  of  Valley 
county,  near  the  present  site  of  Arcadia,  and  here  we  made 
the  first  camp.  It  was  nearly  night,  and  while  Bob  did  the 
camp  work  I  went  out  with  the  rifle  to  get  some  venison  for 
supper.  It  should  have  been  easy,  but  it  was  not.  I  got 
two  fair  standing  shots  and  missed  them  both.  This  was  a 
bad  beginning,  but  such  things  will  happen  sometimes.  I 
could  account  for  it  only  because  it  was  almost  night,  and 
the  sky  was  overcast  making  it  difficult  to  see  the  gun  sights 
plainly. 

The  next  day  our  luck  changed.  We  went  afoot  up 
the  valley  four  or  five  miles  to  the  Custer  county  line,  where 
we  found  a  good  place  to  camp  should  we  wish  to  move, 
and  while  there  saw  a  band  of  elk  a  mile  perhaps  up  the 
valley,  coming  down  out  of  the  hills  toward  the  river.  Here 
was  the  game  we  wanted.  Great  care  was  necessary  in  ap- 
proaching them.  Probably  this  was  our  only  chance  to  get 
elk,  and  we  knew  it,  because  usually  there  is  only  one  band 
of  elk  in  the  same  neighborhood.  They  are  always  alert, 
looking  out  for  danger.  It  is  much  more  difficult  to  ap- 
proach a  drove  of  thirty  or  forty  elk  than  to  approach  a  small 
band  of  five  or  six,  for  the  reason  that  they  are  spread  out 
over  more  territory,  and  it  is  difficult  to  keep  hidden  from 
all  of  them  at  once  .  We  watched  them  until  they  came  near 
the  river  bank,  when  they  stopped  and  some  of  them  be- 
gan to  feed.    Near  the  river  was  a  tract  of  low  land,  some 


116  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

of  it  swampy  and  covered  with  willow  brush.  This  aflford- 
ed  cover  so  that  we  could  walk  rapidly  most  of  the  way, 
only  now  and  then  having  to  stoop,  or  crawl  on  hands  and 
knees.  And  now  a  very  unusual  thing  happened.  While 
going  through  the  willow  brush  we  came  upon  first,  two 
deer  lying  down  not  more  than  twenty  steps  away.  They 
got  up,  made  a  few  jumps  and  stood  looking  at  us  until  we 
were  out  of  sight.  We  had  scarcely  left  these  two,  when 
we  came  onto  three  more  deer,  a  large  buck  and  two  does, 
not  more  than  sixty  steps  away.  I  drew  a  bead  on  the  buck, 
then  taking  down  the  gun  said  to  Bob :  "We  are  after  elk 
— these  deer  if  they  want  to  be  shot  can  wait  until  tomor- 
row." They  were  not  at  all  alarmed,  and  ran  off  only  a  few 
rods.  There  was  little  difficulty  in  getting  within  easy  gun- 
shot of  the  elk.  They  had  now  all  gone  into  the  river,  some 
of  them  having  reached  the  opposite  bank,  and  some  having 
stopped  on  a  sand  bar  in  mid  stream.  We  were  lying  flat, 
Bob  at  my  right  hand — the  elk  had  seen  us  but  were  not 
alarmed.  I  said,  ''Bob  you  take  one  on  the  right  hand,  Fll 
take  one  on  the  left  and  shoot  when  I  count  three."  We 
each  got  an  elk,  one  falling  in  the  river  the  other  getting  to 
the  opposite  bank.  I  fired  the  second  time  and  wounded 
another,  but  as  it  could  almost  keep  up  with  the  herd  we 
did  not  follow  it.  Bob  felt  proud  enough — it  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  killed  any  large  game.  We  could  not  drag 
a  whole  elk  across  the  stream  by  hand,  and  the  quick  sands 
were  too  treacherous  to  use  the  team ;  we  therefore  skinned 
out  the  fore  quarters  and  leaving  them  to  the  wolves  and 
ravens  and  drawing  the  skin  from  the  fore  quarters  back 
over  the  hind  quarters  so  as  to  keep  out  the  sand,  we  drew 
the  hind  quarters  to  the  north  bank  of  the  stream.  We  had 
just  time  enough  left  before  dark  to  move  camp  to  the  place 
already  selected  near  the  Custer  county  line.  We  now 
wanted  two  or  three  deer  to  make  out  the  load. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  117 

Next  morning  Bob  volunteered  to  stay  in  camp,  boil 
some  elk  meat  and  make  a  pot  pie  for  dinner  while  I  tried 
to  get  a  deer.  First  I  hunted  through  the  willow  thickets, 
but  the  deer  were  not  there.  Next  I  went  north  to  the  hills, 
going  but  a  short  distance  before  I  ran  onto  a  large  black- 
tail  buck  which  was  killed  with  one  shot.  Next  I  turned 
to  the  right,  thinking  to  hunt  through  the  low  hills  and  make 
camp  by  noon,  so  as  to  be  in  time  for  the  pot  pie.  But  the 
pot  pie  had  to  wait,  for  I  met  with  one  of  the  strangest  ex- 
periences I  ever  had  in  hunting,  and  did  not  get  to  camp 
until  two  or  three  o'clock.  Before  coming  to  the  valley  I 
found  a  short,  deep  canyon,  with  banks  almost  perpendic- 
ular, and  going  in  at  the  head  of  it  thought  I  would  follow 
it  to  the  river  valley.  I  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  be- 
fore I  saw  a  perfectly  fresh  deer's  track  in  the  sand  at  the 
bottom  of  the  canyon.  It  was  a  very  large  track  and  was 
going  down  toward  the  valley.  Thinking  the  deer  was 
probably  going  to  the  river  for  a  drink,  and  that  there  would 
be  a  better  chance  at  him  if  on  high  ground,  I  climbed  the 
bank  of  the  canyon  and  followed  along  its  course  expecting 
every  moment  to  come  in  sight  of  the  deer.  But  I  did  not 
see  him.  On  reaching  the  place  where  the  canyon  came 
out  into  the  valley  I  found  that  the  deer  had  gone  clear  to 
the  mouth  of  the  canyon,  and  instead  of  going  to  the  river, 
had  turned  and  gone  back  up  the  canyon  again.  The  tracks 
were  very  plain  in  the  sand.  I  now  followed  the  tracks  up 
the  canyon  and  had  gone  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when 
on  turning  the  point  of  a  steep  bank  I  came  suddenly  upon 
the  deer  not  more  than  forty  steps  off.  My  gun  was  already 
cocked,  but  before  I  could  take  aim  the  deer  was  out  of  sight 
going  up  a  short,  steep  side  draw.  He  came  in  sight  again 
just  as  he  went  out  of  the  pocket  at  the  top  and  taking  a 
snap  shot  at  him  I  fired,  not  expecting  to  hit.  Going  to 
the  top  of  the  bank,  the  deer  was  found  lying  on  his  side, 
and  trembling  or  shivering  as  if  he  was  cold.    Taking  out 


lift  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

my  knife  and  stepping  on  one  horn  and  holding  the  other 
with  my  left  hand,  so  that  he  could  not  throw  his  head  about, 
I  stuck  him,  and  jumping  quickly  back  out  of  the  way  picked 
up  the  rifle.  The  deer,  after  considerable  effort  got  upon 
his  feet  and  started  to  run  down  into  the  canyon  again,  the 
blood  streaming  from  his  throat.  He  fell  before  reaching 
the  bottom  but  rolled  the  balance  of  the  way  down  the  steep 
bank.  The  ball  had  passed  through  the  neck  between  the 
cord  and  the  neck  bone.  This  buck  was  a  whitetail,  the 
largest  one  I  ever  killed  of  that  species.  He  was  a  twelve 
pointer  and  I  have  always  kept  the  horns,  using  them  for  a 
hat  rack.  Although  we  did  not  have  a  full  load  of  game, 
it  was  thought  best  to  gather  it  up  the  next  morning  and 
go  back  to  the  camp  on  Oak  creek,  knowing  they  needed 
the  meat.  Next  morning,  therefore,  we  went  into  the  hills 
to  get  the  deer.  On  the  way  out  I  killed  two  more,  and 
coming  back  got  another.  We  now  had  five  whole  deer, 
and  the  hind  quarters  of  two  elk  making  a  good  load.  That 
night  the  weather  turned  intensely  cold  and  the  Loup  river 
froze  over.  Before  night  the  next  day  we  were  gladly  wel- 
comed back  to  camp,  with  the  game  which  was  greatly 
needed. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  119 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Summer  Hunt. 

Most  of  these  stories  are  of  hunting  trips  in  the  fall 
and  early  winter  when  game  is  at  its  best — This  one  will 
tell  of  a  summer  hunt. 

In  the  fall  of  the  year  we  hunted  not  only  for  meat  to 
be  used  while  fresh,  but  also  for  meat  to  be  salted  and  kept 
in  brine  like  beef,  for  winter  and  spring  use,  and  also  for 
drying.  I  remember  that  one  fall,  we  had  on  hand  a  two 
bushel  grain  sack,  filled  as  full  as  it  could  be  tied,  with  dried 
deer  and  elk  meat,  and  also  a  barrel  full  of  salted  meat  in 
brine.  There  was  no  bone  in  any  of  the  dried  meat,  and 
none  in  any  of  the  salted  elk  meat,  but  the  salted  deer  meat 
contained  the  ribs  only.  Together  with  what  fresh  venison 
we  had  through  the  winter,  and  that  was  a  liberal  amount, 
there  was  more  than  we  could  use,  and  toward  spring  we 
gave  away  to  the  neighbors  a  considerable  part  of  the  salted 
meat. 

Our  hunting  trips  in  the  fall  of  the  year  took  us  fre- 
quently as  far  away  from  home  as  fifty  or  sixty  miles,  and 
lasted  from  a  week  or  ten  days  to  three  weeks  for  each  trip, 
the  one  to  Wyoming  in  1888  taking  about  four  weeks'  time. 
Our  summer  hunting  trips  did  not  take  us  far  away  from 
home,  nor  did  they  last  very  long,  because  it  was  necessary 
to  bring  home  the  game  as  soon  as  possible  after  it  was 
killed  in  order  to  take  care  of  the  meat  Detore  it  spoiled, 
and  besides,  there  was  not  much  time  to  use  in  hunting  at 
that  season  of  the  year.  In  the  summer  time  we  used  to 
keep  the  meat  in  good  condition  by  salting  it  slightly  in 
crocks,  then  placing  the  crocks  in  a  big  covered  box,  sunk 
in  the  ground  and  so  arranged  that  the  water  from  a  cold 
spring  flowed  through  the  box.  Butter  was  also  kept  sweet 
and  cold  in  the  same  way. 


120  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

At  one  time  when  we  had  some  venison  and  several 
rolls  of  butter  stored  in  the  manner  described,  there  came 
a  heavy  rain,  the  creek  raised  about  fifteen  feet  during  the 
night,  washed  away  the  bank,  bringing  down  tons  on  tons 
of  earth  upon  the  box,  covering  it  so  that  it  could  not  be 
rescued  without  a  great  deal  of  labor.  The  box  with  its 
contents  is  there  yet. 

In  the  fall  of  the  year  we  killed  whenever  there  was  a 
chance,  the  bucks,  the  does  and  the  fawns,  but  generally 
from  preference  selected  the  bucks  and  large  does  if  there 
was  a  chance  to  do  so.  The  fawns  grow  very  fast,  and  by 
the  middle  of  November  are  half  as  large  as  their  mothers. 
All  these  game  animals  were  very  fat  in  September  and 
October,  but  by  November  the  bucks  begin  to  lose  flesh.  The 
wild  grasses  of  Nebraska  were  very  nutritious,  and  the  does 
and  fawns  kept  fat  all  winter  if  the  snow  was  not  deep,  but 
in  severe  winters  they  would  become  thin  before  spring.  In 
the  spring  and  summer  it  was  our  custom  to  shoot  the  bucks 
only,  sparing  the  does  for  the  sake  of  the  increase. 

In  the  early  spring  the  best  game  to  be  had  was  buck 
antelope.  The  antelope  mostly  went  west  to  spend  the  win- 
ter where  there  was  less  snow  than  here,  and  where  there 
was  an  abundance  of  winter  feed,  such  as  the  buffalo  and 
gramma  grasses.  When  the  antelope  began  to  return  to 
this  country  from  their  western  winter  resort,  the  bucks, 
while  not  fat,  were  in  good  condition,  and  made  the  best 
venison  to  be  had  at  that  time  of  year.  We  hunted  very 
little  in  the  spring,  and  that  only  nearby  home  to  get  a  buck 
antelope  now  and  then ;  excepting  that  on  two  or  three  oc- 
casions we  made  a  trip  to  capture  young  fawns.  However 
thin  and  poor  the  game  might  become  during  the  winter 
months,  it  fattened  very  quickly  after  the  spring  grass  start- 
ed. The  same  remark  will  equally  apply  to  domestic  stock 
of  all  kinds.     The  value  of  our  native   grasses    and    other 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  121 

forage  plants  as  a  pasture  for  stock  forms  a  very  interest- 
ing subject,  and  possibly  may  furnish  material  for  a  special 
article  at  some  future  time,  but  not  now, — this  is  a  hunt- 
ing story. 

Almost  every  year  in  the  early  days,  v^^e  made  a  trip 
just  before  harvest  time  to  get  fresh  meat  enough  to  last 
at  least  a  part  of  the  time  through  harvesting  and  stacking. 
Upon  the  present  occasion,  S.  S.  King,  generally  known  as 
Sol.  King,  of  the  Cedar  creek  settlement,  went  along  to  look 
after  the  camp.  All  the  old  settlers  will  well  remember  S.  S. 
King.  He  was  a  veteran  of  the  civil  war,  having  lost  a  leg 
in  the  service  of  his  country.  While  he  could  do  little  or 
no  hunting,  he  was  a  good  cook,  a  good  camp  keeper,  a  good 
smoker,  and  one  of  the  most  entertaining  of  story  tellers ; 
all  desirable  qualities  in  a  camping  companion.  It  may  be 
also  that  D.  E.  Beckwith  was  along — I  am  not  sure.  He 
was  out  with  me  on  several  occasions  but  whether  at  this 
time  or  not  is  uncertain. 

We  started  from  Cedar  creek  going  almost  directly  west 
and  passing  about  a  mile  north  of  where  Elgin  now  stands. 
While  in  the  low  sandy  knolls,  between  Elgin  and  Clay  Ridge 
we  drove  near  a  Uttle  band  of  antelope,  that  stood  watch- 
ing us,  not  seeming  to  be  at  all  alarmed.  We  were  riding 
in  the  wagon,  and  it  often  happens  that  both  deer  and  ante- 
lope will  stand  and  look,  without  showing  alarm,  when  driv- 
ing by  with  a  team,  and  yet  they  would  run  at  first  sight  of 
anyone  on  foot.  It  was  a  long  shot  to  make,  and  little  chance 
to  hit,  except  by  accident.  The  team  was  stopped,  and  drop- 
ping from  the  wagon  on  the  side  opposite  the  game,  rest- 
ing the  rifle  against  the  hind  wheel,  aim  was  taken  at  a  single 
antelope  standing  in  full  view  on  top  of  a  little  knoll. 

The  rear  sight  was  not  raised,  but  instead  aim  was 
taken  at  a  point  a  little  above  the  shoulders  of  the  antelope, 
with  the  thought,  that  the  ball  might  fall  enough  to  strike 


122  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

about  the  middle  of  the  shoulders.  As  the  gun  cracked  the 
antelope  gave  a  bound  and  fell,  then  hobbled  over  the  knoll 
out  of  sight.  Going  to  the  place,  it  was  found  partly  lying 
down  just  beyond  the  knoll,  and  a  shot  through  the  head 
finished  it.  The  shot  had  broken  both  fore  legs  at  the  knee 
joint.  It  was  a  chance  shot,  and  I  have  been  very  sorry 
that  I  did  not  step  the  distance.  The  longest  successful  shot 
I  ever  made  when  the  distance  was  determined,  was  two 
hundred  and  thirty  paces,  at  which  distance  I  once  killed 
an  elk  in  Wheeler  county.  I  think  the  shot  at  this  antelope 
was  somewhat  longer,  but  am  not  sure.  The  weather  at 
this  time  was  very  warm  with  a  bright  sun.  We  cut  off  all 
the  thickest  of  the  meat,  rubbed  it  with  salt,  and  spread  it 
out  on  an  old  tarpaulin  on  top  of  the  load  to  dry.  In  the 
evening,  it  was  hung  around  the  camp  fire  and  thus  dried 
and  smoked.  It  cured  perfectly.  The  bones  and  thin  meat 
were  boiled,  and  it  lasted  us  until  more  game  was  killed 
When  on  such  a  trip  it  is  easy  to  cure  meat  in  this  way  if 
the  weather  is  clear,  by  giving  it  sunshine  in  the  day  time, 
and  the  heat  and  smoke  of  the  camp  fire  at  night.  It  can 
even  be  done  without  salt,  but  it  is  much  more  palatable  if 
it  is  first  rubbed  with  salt. 

On  this  trip  the  mosquitos  were  very  bad.  I  have  never 
anywhere  seen  the  mosquitos  worse  than  they  were  in  the 
sand  hills  of  Nebraska  in  early  times,  and  that  it  putting  it 
pretty  strong,  but  none  too  strong.  They  were  bad  enough 
in  the  clay  lands  where  the  grass  was  big,  but  nothing  like 
the  sand  hill  country.  In  the  sand  hills,  excepting  in  a  very 
dry  season  there  were  hundreds  of  little  ponds  with  more 
or  less  water,  and  filled  with  a  growth  of  coarse  grass  and 
rushes,  the  breeding  place  of  billions  of  mosquitos.  That 
country  is  much  drier  now  than  it  was.  There  are  thou- 
sands on  thousands  of  cattle  and  horses  to  feed  down  the 
grass,  and  the  mosquitos  are  not  a  quarter  as  thick  there 
now  as  they  were  formerly.    The  first  night  out  we  scarcely 


Elk  or   Wapiti  Deer. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  123 

slept  at  all.  It  was  too  warm  to  sleep  with  the  head  covered, 
and  quite  impossible  to  sleep  with  it  uncovered.  The  only 
way  to  get  any  sleep  was  to  keep  up  a  thick  smudge  and 
sit  or  lie  where  it  could  reach  one's  head.  Without  doubt  it 
was  as  hard  on  the  horses  as  on  ourselves.  The  second  night 
out  was  at  first,  just  as  bad,  and  finding  it  impossible  to 
sleep,  I  went  out  where  the  horses  were  picketed,  and  rubbed 
the  mosquitos  off  their  necks  and  legs,  their  bodies  being 
blanketed,  which  helped  some.  Near  the  camp  was  a  big 
blow-out,  and  thinking  there  might  be  a  little  breeze  stirring 
near  the  top  I  went  there  to  investigate.  There  was  no  wind, 
but  near  the  top  there  were  fewer  mosquitos.  The  blow-out 
was  a  big  one,  the  hollow  covering  nearly  or  quite  half  an 
acre,  and  being  probably  twenty  feet  deep,  and  all  clean, 
bare  sand.  I  went  down  into  it,  and  there  was  not  a  mos- 
quito there  .  I  had  learned  something.  Going  back  to  camp, 
we  carried  the  bed  to  the  blowout  and  there  slept  until  after 
sunrise,  without  hearing  the  music  of  a  single  one  of  the 
pests.  We  also  spent  the  next  night  in  the  same  place  with- 
out being  bothered  at  all. 

The  morning  after  our  first  night  in  the  blow-out,  we 
were  late  getting  breakfast,  and  we  ate  it  on  the  rim  at  the 
top  of  the  blow-out,  so  as  to  be  where  we  could  look  over 
the  country  for  game.  While  eating  breakfast  we  saw  a 
herd  of  elk  about  a  mile  away  to  the  southwest.  They  were 
feeding,  and  were  working  slowly  to  the  north.  After 
breakfast  we  saddled  the  horses  and  started  after  them. 
They  were  now  out  of  sight,  but  had  not  seen  us  and  were 
not  alarmed.  We  rode  perhaps  a  mile  to  the  southwest,  and 
then  turned  north  to  follow  the  elk,  keeping  behind  the 
shelter  of  the  sandhills,  and  riding  near  enough  to  the  top 
of  one  frequently,  so  as  to  look  sharp  ahead,  but  never  show- 
ing ourselves  on  any  high  place.  While  doing  this  we  came 
upon  a  wolf  lying  asleep  in  the  tall  grass.  He  had  not  heard 
nor  smelt  us,  and  we  watched  him  for  a  minute  or  two,  un- 


124  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

til  he  was  startled  by  a  noise  made  by  one  of  the  horses. 
He  was  a  surprised  and  very  badly  scared  wolf  and  lost  no 
time  in  getting  away,  throwing  his  head  from  side  to  side 
frequently  while  running  so  as  to  look  back  to  see  if  he  was 
pursued.  We  had  not  long  followed  the  elk  until  they  were 
seen  about  half  a  mile  away.  They  had  quit  feeding,  and 
ivere  lying  down,  three  or  four  of  them  posted  on  high 
knolls,  from  which  they  could  keep  watch  in  every  direction. 
The  horses  were  left  with  Sol  who  was  to  keep  out  of  sight 
while  I  made  the  approach.  This  was  the  most  difficult  job 
of  approaching,  in  hunting  elk,  that  I  ever  had  to  do,  in 
which  I  succeeded.  I  had  a  number  of  other  times  to  give 
it  up,  and  wait  until  the  next  day,  but  this  time  I  got  my 
elk  after  two  hours  work.  It  was  easy  enough  to  get  within 
about  three  hundred  yards  of  the  game  as  I  judged  the  dis- 
tance, but  a  shot  at  that  distance  was  too  uncertain,  and  I 
was  unwilling  to  take  the  chance.  I  was  lying  on  the  south 
side  of  the  narrow  rim  of  a  small  blowout,  from  which  point 
four  or  five  elk  were  in  plain  sight,  one  of  them  a  large 
buck  lying  on  the  very  top  of  a  knoll.  If  I  could  only  get 
a  dozen  feet  nearer  to  him,  there  was  a  chance  to  get  into 
a  little  valley  with  a  knoll  beyond  that  would  shield 
me  from  view.  There  was  only  one  way  to  get  into  this  val- 
ley without  being  seen  and  that  was  to  dig  through  the  rim 
of  a  small  blow-out.  By  crawling  over  the  edge  of  the  blow- 
out, the  elk  would  surely  see  me — by  digging  through  the 
narrow  rim,  he  might  or  might  not  see  me.  If  he  did  dis- 
cover me  and  showed  alarm,  I  would  fire,  if  not  I  could  get 
near  enough  for  a  sure  shot.  With  my  hunting  knife  and 
my  hands  I  dug  a  trench  through  the  loose  sand  wide  and 
deep  enough  for  my  body,  and  crawled  through  into  the 
little  blow-out  and  then  into  the  little  valley.  If  the  elk  saw 
me,  which  is  not  probable,  he  was  not  alarmed.  This  en- 
abled me  to  reach  a  place  where  I  got  a  sure  shot.  When 
the  ball  struck  he  l.mnded  to  his  feet,  and  sprang  down  the 
opposite  side  of  the  knoll  out  of  sight,  but  fell  before  going 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  125 

a  dozen  rods.  We  cut  the  meat  all  off  the  bones,  rubbed 
salt  into  it,  and  smoked  and  dried  it  by  the  fire  and  in  the 
sun  until  partly  cured.  We  did  not  have  good  luck  with  all 
of  it  however,  as  we  found  on  reaching  home  that  some  of 
the  larger  pieces  were  tainted,  but  the  most  of  it  was  good. 
This  was  a  big  elk,  one  of  the  largest  I  have  ever  killed; 
he  was  fat,  and  had  a  heavy  pair  of  horns  that  were  in  the 
velvet. 

We  made  many  other  short  summer  trips  with  varying 
success,  sometimes  getting  game,  but  not  always ;  but  at  no 
other  time  were  we  so  pestered  with  mosquitos  as  on  this 
occasion. 


126  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Hunting  Near  Home. 

These  stories  are  as  leaves  taken  from  my  own  book 
of  memory.  And  how  real,  how  vivid,  how  natural  and 
clear  these  things  seem  to  me  now.  As  I  write  them  down 
I  am  living  over  again  the  wonderfully  bright  and  fascin- 
ating life  of  forty  years  ago.  I  see  again  the  vast  expanse 
of  smooth  rolHng  prairie,  with  its  rounded  hills,  its  long, 
smooth,  gentle  slopes,  culminating  at  a  distance  of  four  or 
five  miles  in  a  broad  swell  somewhat  higher  than  the  rest, 
the  dividing  ridge  between  two  water  courses.  In  an  op- 
posite direction,  and  perhaps  a  mile  or  so  distant  can  be 
traced  the  course  of  a  timbered  creek,  winding  its  sinuous 
way  back  and  forth  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  its  beauti- 
ful and  luxuriant  valley,  still  in  a  state  of  nature  just  as 
God  made  it,  but  holding  in  its  embrace  scores  of  embryo 
farms,  with  a  soil,  it  may  be,  the  richest  on  earth.  Tracing 
the  course  of  the  creek  to  its  confluence  with  the  broad  val- 
ley of  the  Elkhorn  one  beholds  a  magnificent  picture,  un- 
excelled in  lovliness  anywhere,  even  if  it  does  not  quite 
match  in  grandeur,  views  to  be  had  among  the  mountains 
or  along  the  shores  of  the  ocean.  No  landscape  picture  is 
quite  complete  without  its  hills,  its  plains,  its  groves  of  tim- 
ber and  its  streams  of  water.  All  these  were  here  in  pro- 
fusion and  perfection,  in  the  early  days.  They  are  here  yet, 
but  with  the  marks  of  man's  interference  to  so  great  an 
extent  that  their  original  superb  beauty  has  been  almost 
effaced. 

But  the  picture  as  drawn  is  not  quite  complete.  To 
be  perfect  and  true  to  nature  it  would  hold  some  of  God's 
wild  creatures  that  were  here  in  abundance  in  the  early 
days.    Three  or  four  little  bands  of  antelope  should  surely 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  127 

be  in  sight,  some  of  them  so  far  off  as  to  be  indistinctly 
seen  unless  on  some  prominent  hill,  while  others  are  so  near 
by  as  to  be  plainly  visible  and  easily  counted,  their  natural 
curiosity  having  been  so  aroused  that  they  are  already  ap- 
proaching to  investigate  the  intruder,  coming  within  forty 
or  fifty  rods,  stopping  to  gaze,  then  bounding  away,  and 
again  approaching  from  a  different  direction,  until  either 
satisfied  or  alarmed  they  strike  out  for  good,  stopping  to 
take  a  last  look  from  the  top  of  a  ridge  half  a  mile  or  more 
away.  Who  that  has  a  love  for  nature  or  a  soul  for  the 
beautiful  could  fail  to  be  enchanted  with  such  a  scene  ?  And 
yet  such  scenes  were  so  common  in  the  early  days  as  to  be 
little  thought  of  and  lightly  appreciated  by  many  of  the  early 
settlers.  It  seems  too  bad  that  these  things  can  be  looked 
upon  and  enjoyed  no  longer.  Why  did  not  the  government 
reserve  two  tracts,  each  twelve  miles  square,  in  each  one 
of  the  western  states  for  a  home  for  the  deer,  the  antelope 
and  the  wapati,  or  elk?  These  preserves  should  have  con- 
tained both  rough  and  smooth  land  as  well  as  timber  and 
water,  and  would  have  been  available  as  homes  for  the  wild 
animals  and  pleasure  resorts  for  the  people.  But  in  this 
utilitarian  age  these  things  are  not  thought  of. 

As  I  look  backward  I  almost  wonder  that  I  ever  could 
have  been  hard  hearted  enough  to  help  destroy  these  beau- 
tiful and  innocent  wild  animals.  However  we  did  not  hunt 
them  solely  for  sport,  and  seldom  for  any  purpose  except 
when  needed  for  food,  and  we  never  wantonly  destroyed 
them.  On  two  occasions  only,  when  money  was  very  scarce, 
and  game  very  plentiful,  did  I  kill  any  for  market.  It  is 
a  fact,  however,  that  their  disappearance  was  inevitable,  from 
a  country  such  as  we  have,  that  ranks  high  as  a  farming 
district.  As  the  country  filled  up  with  farms,  the  wild  ani- 
mals had  to  go,  and  although  this  is  an  unpleasant  thought 
to  contemplate,  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise. 


128  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

It  is  therefore  all  the  more  a  pity  that  reservations  were 
not  provided  while  the  country  was  yet  new,  and  the  wild 
animals  plentiful,  where  they  could  be  confined  by  woven 
wire  fences,  and  cared  for  and  fed  in  severe  winters.  And 
what  a  lovely  resort  such  a  place  would  be  for  campers  and 
pleasure  seekers  in  which  to  spend  their  summer  vacations. 
What  a  magnificent  game  preserve  and  pleasure  resort  could 
have  been  made  of  Verdigris,  Sherman,  Garfield  and  Royal 
townships  in  our  own  county,  with  their  springs  and  streams 
of  pure,  cold,  soft  water  abounding  in  trout,  its  unrivalled 
scenery  and  unmatched  facilities  for  a  pleasant  outing. 

The  winter  of  1880  was  a  bad  one.  Probably  none  of 
the  old  settlers  have  forgotten  how  the  winter  begun  with 
a  bad  storm  about  the  middle  of  October,  and  how  that 
October  snow  remained  upon  the  ground  in  some  places 
until  the  first  of  the  next  May ;  of  course  being  covered  over 
and  over  again  by  subsequent  snows.  That  was  a  bad  win- 
ter on  the  deer — they  were  plentiful  here  before  that,  but 
very  scarce  thereafter.  The  hunters,  the  wolves  and  the 
hard  winter  killed  them  about  all  oflf. 

That  fall,  1880,  I  did  some  hunting  around  home,  the 
last  I  have  ever  done  in  Antelope  county.  The  corn  was 
not  all  husked,  in  fact  the  most  of  it  was  still  in  the  field 
when  the  storm  came,  and  the  deer  in  our  Cedar  creek  neigh- 
borhood, and  probably  elsewhere  also,  got  into  the  habit  of 
coming  into  the  cornfields  and  getting  their  share  of  the 
corn  at  night.  We  had  had  no  venison  that  fall  before  the 
storm,  and  as  we  all  wanted  some,  I  started  out  with  my 
rifle  about  the  last  of  October  to  try  my  luck.  I  soon  found 
a  buck's  track  leading  out  of  a  cornfield  on  the  farm  of 
H.  W.  Swett,  now  owned  by  Dr.  Nelson  of  Oakdale.  The 
track  led  north,  going  straight  toward  Oakdale.  I  followed 
as  fast  as  I  could  easily  walk  where  the  ground  was  smooth, 
but  soon  the  track  led  down  into  a  ravine  filled  with  big 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  129 

weeds.  This  was  on  the  place  now  owned  by  Abe  Simmons, 
and  here  I  began  to  go  very  slowly,  and  to  watch  carefully, 
expecting  the  deer  at  any  moment  to  jump  out  of  his  hid- 
ing place  in  the  big  weeds.  This  he  did,  but  the  result  was 
not  just  what  I  had  expected.  I  was  walking  along  the 
ravine  ten  or  twelve  feet  up  its  side  with  the  rifle  at  a  ready, 
and  when  the  deer  rushed  out,  instead  of  firing  at  him  as 
was  intended,  my  feet  slipped  and  I  slid  down  clear  to  the 
bottom  of  the  ravine.  Shaking  off  the  snow,  and  cleaning 
it  from  the  gun  barrel  which  was  filled  with  it,  I  took  the 
track  and  followed  on.  The  deer  soon  came  down  to  a  walk 
showing  that  he  was  not  greatly  alarmed.  I  soon  came  up 
with  him  again,  this  time  finding  him  lying  down  in  the 
weeds  and  grass,  in  a  little  basin  or  sag  in  the  land,  on  the 
place  now  owned  by  George  Hunter,  and  not  more  than 
forty  rods  south  of  the  place  where  the  Hunter  house  now 
stands.  This  time  I  got  in  a  shot,  but  he  ran  almost  a  mile 
before  he  fell,  going  nearly  half  way  to  Oakdale.  I  found 
him  lying  dead  just  east  of  the  Putney  place. 

But  a  single  deer,  even  if  it  be  a  big  one,  does  not  last 
long  in  a  family  of  good  size,  especially  where  there  are 
plenty  of  neighbors.  In  a  few  days  we  were  out  of  venison 
again.  There  had  been  another  snow  storm  by  this  time, 
but  it  did  not  drift  like  the  first  one,  but  it  covered  the  prairie 
grass  so  that  the  whole  country  was  white.  This  time  I 
made  ready  for  the  hunt  by  pinning  a  white  cloth  over  my 
cap  and  wrapping  a  sheet  around  my  shoulders,  so  as  to 
cover  the  arms  also  as  much  as  possible.  When  about  a 
mile  from  home,  I  started  five  deer  at  a  place  now  called 
the  Swett  Hill,  in  the  southern  part  of  Oakdale  township. 
The  deer  were  in  the  deep  ravine  about  a  dozen  rods  below 
where  the  iron  bridge  now  stands  at  the  crossing  of  the 
little  creek.  The  deer  ran  up  the  north  bank,  and  near  the 
top  ran  into  a  big  snow  drift  that  hindered  them  considerably 
causing  them  to  run  slow.     I  fired  and  got  one,  but  could 


130  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

not  get  in  a  second  shot  before  they  were  too  far  away. 
Dressing  the  deer,  I  followed  on  after  the  others  and  found 
them  in  a  patch  of  brush  in  a  ravine,  not  more  than  forty 
rods  from  the  place  where  Ben  Moon's  house  now  stands. 
I  think  I  saw  the  deer  before  they  saw  me,  but  could  see 
no  way  to  approach  them  near  enough  for  a  shot  without 
exposing  myself.  I  therefore  lay  flat  down  and  crawled 
through  the  snow  until  near  enough  for  a  pretty  fair  shot. 
Selecting  the  one  that  appeared  to  be  the  largest  I  fired. 
The  deer  made  two  or  three  jumps  and  fell  in  the  bottom 
of  the  ravine.  The  others  ran  south  but  stopped  soon  after 
reaching  the  top  of  the  bank,  when  I  fired  again  and  missed. 
As  soon  as  this  second  deer  was  attended  to  I  started  again 
on  the  track.  The  next  time  I  came  upon  them  they  were 
lying  in  the  open  prairie  on  the  place  now  owned  by  N.  P. 
Swanson.  There  was  no  chance  this  time,  and  they  ran 
when  I  was  almost  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  I  then  did 
not  expect  to  get  another  shot,  but  as  they  ran  southwest 
which  was  almost  in  the  direction  toward  home,  I  followed 
on,  when  about  a  mile  west  of  the  Morris  Murphy  farm  I 
struck  a  draw,  the  head  of  which  was  filled  with  sumach 
bushes  and  big  weeds,  and  from  this  cover  the  three  deer 
jumped  out.  There  was  a  chance  for  a  good  running  shot, 
and  that  shot  brought  down  the  third  deer.  A  second  run- 
ning shot  was  taken  but  without  effect  excepting  to  increase 
the  speed  of  the  game,  the  shot  falling  behind  and  throwing 
up  the  snow  where  the  ball  struck.  It  was  now  getting  well 
along  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  struck  out  for  home  as  soon 
as  the  last  deer  was  dressed.  I  learned  from  C.  P.  Mathew- 
son  of  Norfolk,  a  successful  hunter  himself,  that  if  a  hand- 
kerchief or  any  piece  of  cloth  that  had  been  upon  one's 
person,  was  tied  upon  a  stick  or  weed  near  any  game  killed, 
neither  the  big  wolves,  nor  the  coyotes  would  touch  the 
game.  I  found  from  experience  that  this  was  true.  The 
wolf  is  a  very  cowardly  and  suspicious  animal,  and  will  not 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  131 

approach  game  when  so  protected.  I  always  made  a  prac- 
tice of  doing  this  when  it  was  necessary  to  leave  the  game 
out  over  night.  In  the  morning  I  have  often  seen  wolf 
tracks  in  the  snow  only  a  few  rods  away,  but  they  did  not 
dare  to  touch  the  game.  The  next  morning  I  went  with 
the  team  and  sleigh  and  brought  in  the  three  deer. 

Sometime  in  the  seventies,  but  I  cannot  tell  just  when 
I  had  a  very  peculiar  experience  in  hunting  in  this  same 
neighborhood.  I  started  on  horseback,  having  a  very  ex- 
cellent riding  mare,  but  she  was  nervous,  and  somewhat 
afraid  of  a  gun,  and  of  the  game,  especially  if  it  was  close 
by.  This  time  also,  I  found  the  track  of  a  big  buck  that 
had  been  feeding  in  one  of  Mr.  Swett's  cornfields  during 
the  night.  Dismounting  and  leading  the  mare,  so  as  to  be 
ready  to  shoot  quickly  when  the  game  started,  I  came  upon 
this  deer  lying  down  in  a  ravine  on  the  George  Hunter  place, 
perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  southeast  of  the  place  where  the 
house  now  stands.  Only  the  head  and  horns  and  part  of 
the  neck  could  be  seen,  and  these  not  very  distinctly.  Aim- 
ing as  well  as  I  could  at  the  neck,  the  head  dropped  at  the 
crack  of  the  rifle.  Going  up  to  the  deer  intending  to  stick 
him,  I  stepped  on  one  horn  so  as  to  hold  his  head  down, 
but  the  mare  was  afraid  and  kept  pulling  back  on  the  bridle, 
the  deer  in  the  meantime  kicking  with  his  hind,  and  strik- 
ing with  his  fore  feet.  I  had  to  give  it  up,  and  looking 
around  for  a  place  to  tie  the  mare,  saw^  some  big  weeds  a 
dozen  rods  away  that  would  answer  the  purpose.  Having 
tied  the  mare,  I  picked  up  the  rifle  and  turned  to  go  back 
to  the  deer,  when  to  my  surprise  I  saw  him  running  up  the 
bank  of  the  ravine  nearly  a  hundred  yards  away.  I  fired 
but  of  course  the  shot  missed  him.  This  was  the  first  case 
of  this  kind  that  I  had  ever  met  with.  I  followed  on,  not 
having  a  doubt  that  the  deer  would  be  overtaken  and  killed. 
The  tracking  snow  was  good  and  the  track  easy  to  follow. 
I  rode  the  mare  to  the  place  where  the  deer  crossed  Cedar 


132  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

creek  about  two  miles  south  of  the  Oakdale  mill.  As  the 
creek  was  bad  to  ford  I  gave  up  the  chase  for  the  day,  and 
going  home,  waited  until  the  next  morning,  when  I  took 
it  up  afoot.  The  next  morning,  after  following  the  track 
for  a  mile  or  so,  I  came  upon  his  bed  where  he  had  lain 
through  the  night  in  a  thicket  of  brush.  From  this  place 
the  track  led  northwest,  going  almost  toward  Neligh.  Fin- 
ally I  started  him  out  of  another  thicket,  but  the  brush  were 
so  thick  that  there  was  no  chance  to  shoot.  He  then  ran 
almost  directly  west,  and  when  I  overtook  him  again  he  was 
lying  down  on  a  sandy  knoll  watching  for  me.  He  saw  me 
and  started  to  run  when  I  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 
This  was  almost  directly  south  of  Neligh  and  not  more  than 
two  miles  from  the  town.  I  gave  it  up.  The  wound  had 
entirely  stopped  bleeding,  excepting  a  little  where  he  had 
lain  over  night,  and  no  doubt  the  deer  got  well. 

Afterward  I  had  a  similar  experience  when  hunting  in 
Custer  county,  as  already  related  in  a  previous  article,  al- 
though that  time  I  did  not  let  the  deer  get  away.  Also  at 
another  time  Mr.  E.  R.  Palmer  and  I  lost  an  elk  in  a  sim- 
ilar manner  when  hunting  in  Garfield  county. 

Sometimes  deer  used  to  cross  the  sandy  track  south 
of  Neligh,  going  back  and  forth  from  the  north  branch  of 
Cedar  creek  to  the  Elkhorn  near  the  mouth  of  Antelope 
creek.  One  winter  in  the  seventies  I  struck  such  a  track 
that  was  coming  to  the  Cedar.  I  found  it  about  two  miles 
southwest  of  Neligh.  The  deer  was  walking  very  slowly, 
examining  every  thick  bunch  of  tall  grass,  evidently  look- 
ing for  a  place  to  lie  down.  It  needs  careful  hunting  at 
such  a  time  unless  one  is  content  to  take  chances  at  a  run- 
ning shot.  When  not  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
Neligh  the  track  entered  a  little  circular  valley,  containing 
four  or  five  acres  and  covered,  although  not  very  thickly 
with  tall  grass.     From  the  rim  of  the  basin  where  I  was 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  133 

standing  the  whole  surface  was  in  plain  sight,  and  it  seemed 
that  a  jack  rabbit  could  not  hide  there  without  being  seen, 
there  being  five  or  six  inches  of  snow  at  the  time.  The 
rifle  was  raised  and  all  ready  to  take  aim,  but  after  carefully 
scanning  the  valley  and  seeing  nothing  of  the  deer,  I  took 
the  gun  down  and  started  to  follow  the  track.  Just  then 
the  deer  jumped  out,  not  more  than  ten  rods  away  and 
started  to  run.  I  fired  wounding  him  badly,  but  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  give  a  second  shot,  although  there  was 
plenty  of  time  to  do  so.  The  deer  ran  a  Httle  south  of  east, 
crossing  the  road  running  south  from  NeHgh  just  at  the 
pond  where  Alexander  McKay  was  drowned  only  a  year 
or  so  before.  Within  another  quarter  of  a  mile  I  came  upon 
the  deer  lying  down  on  a  knoll  not  much  more  than  a  mile 
from  Neligh  in  a  straight  line.  A  shot  through  the  head 
finished  him. 

There  are  many  pleasant  recollections  connected  w^ith 
the  lives  of  the  wild  animals  aside  from  the  interest  in  hunt- 
ing them.  There  was  one  old  buck  that  seemed  to  make 
his  headquarters  on  the  north  branch  of  the  Cedar,  that  was 
very  cunning,  and  for  a  long  time  eluded  all  attempts  to  get 
him.  I  made  several  trips  to  the  north  branch  on  purpose 
to  hunt  him,  but  without  avail.  I  got  three  or  four  shots 
at  different  times,  but  always  under  a  disadvantage — he 
would  never  leave  the  brush  until  he  was  entirely  beyond 
reach.  After  a  time  D.  E.  Beckwith  killed  somewhere  in 
that  vicinity  a  very  large  buck  corresponding  in  size  and 
the  appearance  of  the  horns  to  this  one.  As  the  old  fellow 
was  not  seen  afterwards  in  his  customary  haunts,  he  prob- 
ably fell  to  Mr.  Beckwith's  rifle. 

One  summer  there  were  two  deer  that  used  frequently 
to  come  and  lick  the  salt  where  we  salted  the  cattle,  less 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  and  in  plain  sight  of  the  house. 
One  winter  there  were  ten  antelope  that  frequently  came  to 


134  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

feed  on  the  stubble  ground  near  the  house,  sometimes  com- 
ing so  near  that  one  of  them  could  have  been  shot  from  the 
door.  Toward  spring  there  were  only  eight  of  them,  two 
having  either  strayed  away  or  been  killed.  We  never  dis- 
turbed or  intentionally  frightened  these  animals  that  seemed 
to  have  learned  not  to  fear  us.  Ah  well !  those  times  are  past 
— gone  forever,  leaving  a  sad,  but  yet  a  pleasant  memory. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  135 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Hunting  and  Camping  Lo/e. 

To  make  a  hunting  trip  thoroughly  complete  and  en- 
joyable one  of  the  chief  requisites  is  a  good  camp.  Re- 
member that  I  am  now  speaking  from  experience  gained 
during  my  own  hunting  trips  chiefly  in  north  Nebraska,  but 
also  to  some  extent  in  Wyoming  and  South  Dakota.  This 
extended  over  a  period  of  thirty  years,  from  1868  to  1897 
inclusive.  I  did  hunt  some,  but  not  a  great  deal  prior  to 
1868,  but  have  hunted  none  at  all  since  1897.  My  hunting 
was  done  mostly  during  the  months  of  September,  October, 
November  and  December,  when  cold  storms,  either  of  rain 
or  snow,  were  likely  to  occur,  making  a  good  sheltered  camp 
all  the  more  necessary.  The  best  shelter  possible  for  a  camp 
is  a  dense  thicket  of  brush — nothing  else  makes  so  perfect 
a  wind-break.  The  next  best  shelter  is  a  steep  bank — not 
a  hill,  but  a  bluff  as  nearly  perpendicular  as  possible,  to  pro- 
tect the  camp  on  the  north  and  west.  The  camp  should  be 
only  a  few  feet  away  from  the  bluff,  and  the  camp  fire 
should  be  directly  against  its  steep  side  so  as  to  throw  the 
heat  immediately  upon  the  camp.  In  the  sand  hill  country 
I  have  several  times  found  a  good  camping  place  in  an  old 
blow-out.  These  blow-outs  are  formed  by  the  wind  scoop- 
ing out  the  sand  from  the  northwest  side  of  a  big  sand  hill, 
and  drifting  it  over  to  the  southeast  side,  until  it  forms  a 
circular  hollow  in  the  hill  sometimes  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
deep,  and  makes  on  the  southeast  side  of  the  hill  a  bare 
sand  bank  just  like  a  great  snow  drift.  These  blow-outs 
are  scooped  out  by  the  wind,  sometimes  in  a  dry  time  to 
such  a  depth  that  when  deep  snows  come  in  the  winter, 
followed  by  heavy  rains  in  the  spring,  the  water  level  is 
raised  so  much  that  the  deep  blow-outs  become  filled  with 


136  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

water  to  the  depth  of  several  feet.  After  a  series  of  years 
the  shape  of  the  hills  in  the  vicinity  of  a  blow-out  some- 
times becomes  so  changed  that  the  wind  ceases  to  act  upon 
it.  The  blow-out  then,  in  a  short  time  becomes  grassed 
over,  and  being  protected  from  the  winds  on  all  sides,  makes 
a  fine  sheltered  place  for  a  camp. 

There  should  be  wood  and  water  near  the  camp,  and 
also  good  grass  for  the  horses.  It  is  better,  however,  to 
carry  the  water  necessary  for  the  camp  for  a  considerable 
distance,  rather  than  to  make  camp  in  an  exposed  place.  As 
to  fuel — there  are  always  dead  bushes,  either  willows  or 
plum  brush  that  have  been  killed  by  the  fire,  whenever  the 
camp  is  made  in  a  thicket.  In  the  sand  hill  country  there 
are  always  dead  and  well  seasoned  red  roots  that  make  a 
very  hot  fire  that  lasts  well.  The  red  root  is  a  shrub  that 
grows  almost  everywhere  in  the  sand  hill  country,  except- 
ing on  the  low  ground.  It  has  roots  from  one  to  two  inches 
in  diameter  that  are  often  uncovered  by  the  wind,  thus 
causing  the  shrub  to  die.  It  usually  takes  but  a  few  minutes 
to  gather  up  a  big  armful  of  them.  Sometimes  also  cotton 
wood,  ash  or  hackberry  trees  could  be  had  for  fuel.  A  big 
camp  fire  is  not  necessary  either  for  pleasure  or  comfort, 
but  a  well  sheltered  place  for  the  camp  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary, and  a  small  camp  fire  with  enough  fuel  to  often  re- 
plenish it  is  sufficient. 

We  never  used  a  tent  until  some  time  in  the  nineties— 
in  fact  we  had  no  tent  and  it  cost  too  much  to  buy  one  when 
the  financial  condition  of  those  times  was  considered.  In- 
stead of  a  tent  we  always  used  an  old  rag  carpet  thrown 
over  some  poles,  tepee  fashion,  and  it  was  just  as  comfort- 
able and  made  us  just  as  happy  as  though  we  had  the  best 
kind  of  a  canvas  tent. 

If  we  camped  in  the  sand  hill  country  it  was  usually 
our  habit  to  plant  a  pole  on  top  of  seme  prominent  peak 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  137 

near  camp,  and  on  this  hang  a  grain  sack,  or  an  old  coat 
as  a  signal.  The  sand  hill  country  all  looked  very  much 
aHke,  and  this  helped  sometimes  to  bring  in  a  straggler, 
especially  if  the  day  was  cloudy.  If  the  camp  was  on  a 
stream  of  water,  such  a  precaution  was  not  necessary,  the 
stream  being  a  guide  to  the  camp. 

As  to  the  best  kind  of  gun  to  be  used  in  hunting,  there 
is  a  chance  for  a  great  diversity  of  opinion.  Before  our 
modern  breech  loading  guns  came  into  use  I  had  hunted 
some  with  the  old  style  muzzle  loading  rifles,  and  also  with 
a  double  barrel  muzzle  loading  shot  gun.  With  the  old  muz- 
zle loading  percussion  lock  rifles  I  killed  two  antelope  and 
seven  deer,  and  helped  to  kill  one  buffalo.  With  the  old 
style  shot  gun  I  killed  one  antelope,  two  elk,  and  about 
twelve  deer,  having  forgotten  exactly  how  many.  Since 
December,  1870,  I  have  used  breech  loading  guns  only,  hav- 
ing hunted  more  or  less  with  the  Maynard,  Smith  &  Wesson, 
Ballard,  Sharps,  Remington,  four  styles  of  the  Winchester 
rifle,  and  also  the  army  Springfield  rifled  musket.  I  had  the 
best  luck  with  the  Springfield  rifled  musket,  or  needle  gun 
as  it  was  called,  the  Sharps  carbine,  both  of  which  carried 
a  caliber  50  bullet  weighing  450  grains  and  taking  70  grains 
of  powder,  and  the  Winchester  repeater  caliber  45-75,  my 
preference  above  all  being  for  the  Winchester.  I  have  had 
no  experience  with  the  modern  small  bore  high  power  rifles, 
they  having  come  into  use  since  my  hunting  days  were 
passed.  I  think  the  only  reason  why  I  had  better  luck  with 
the  three  guns  last  named  than  with  any  of  the  others  was 
because  they  carried  a  heavier  bullet  than  the  others  not 
because  they  were  more  accurate  shooters.  A  heavy  bullet 
will  bring  down  a  deer  or  an  elk,  when  a  light  one  will  only 
wound  the  animal,  and  unless  there  is  a  tracking  snow,  even 
if  the  wound  is  finally  fatal,  the  game  is  liable  to  be  lost. 
Any  rifle  without  regard  to  caliber,  that  is  sure  fire,  and 
that  will  shoot  true,  will  answer  to  hunt  deer  with,  but  if 


138  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  caliber  is  small  the  bullet  must  reach  a  vital  spot  or  the 
game  is  very  likely  to  get  away.  I  knew  a  young  man  who 
killed  a  large  black  bear  with  a  22  rifle,  but  the  bear  was 
shot  in  the  brain  at  a  distance  of  not  more  than  thirty  steps, 
while  he  was  eating  wild  berries.  Such  cases  however  are 
extremely  rare,  and  even  where  deer  are  plentiful  and  not 
very  wild  much  better  results  would  be  had  by  using  a  large 
bore  gun  than  by  using  a  small  one.  It  is  the  weight  of 
the  bullet  that  tells. 

In  this  connection  it  is  proper  to  consider  the  distance 
at  which  a  rifle  shot  is  pretty  sure  to  find  the  mark.  There 
is  much  misconception  upon  this  point  with  people  generally. 
It  is  commonly  supposed  that  a  good  hunter,  with  a  good 
rifle,  can  easily  kill  deer  at  a  distance  of  four  hundred  or 
five  hundred  yards.  Such  is  not  the  case — at  such  a  distance 
no  hunter,  no  matter  how  good  his  gun,  would  kill  once  in 
five  shots,  and  probably  not  once  in  ten.  I  believe  that  in 
all  my  hunting,  the  average  distance  at  which  game  was 
killed  would  be  considerably  less  than  a  hundred  yards — 
probably  not  more  than  seventy-five  yards,  and  the  same 
statement  will  apply  to  all  others  with  whom  I  have  hunted. 
Of  course  I  have  often  made  much  longer  shots,  but  I  early 
found  out  by  experience,  that  long  range  shots  were  very 
uncertain.  There  are  reasons  for  this  that  will  be  explained. 
If  a  rifle  is  sighted  with  "level  sights" — that  is,  if  the  front 
and  rear  sights  are  exactly  the  same  distance  above  the  bore 
of  the  gun  barrel  there  will  be  no  elevation  or  upward  trend 
of  the  bullet  when  fired,  and  in  one  second  after  leaving 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun  that  bullet  will  fall  about  sixteen  feet. 
Now  how  does  this  work  out  in  practice?  My  Sharps  car- 
bine, an  excellent  gun,  was  sighted  for  one  hundred  yards, 
and  when  fired  at  a  target  at  that  distance  the  bullet  did  not 
fall  perceptibly,  but  at  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  yards  it 
would  fall  about  two  or  three  inches,  and  at  a  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  about  six  or  eight  inches.    My  40-82  caliber  Win- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  139 

Chester,  which  was  the  strongest  shooting  gun  I  ever  used, 
when  fired  at  a  mark  a  hundred  and  eighty-five  yards  off, 
the  ball  would  strike  about  eight  inches  below  the  mark.  Of 
course  all  these  hunting  rifles  have  sights  that  can  be  raised, 
tind  they  will  all  shoot  to  kill  at  a  half  mile  or  even  a  mile 
or  more.  But  there  are  so  many  difficulties  in  the  way  when 
shooting  at  game  beyond  the  distance  to  *which  the  gun  will 
carry  with  "level  sights,"  that  it  is  better  not  to  shoot  at 
all  under  such  circumstances,  but  rather  to  wait  for  a  better 
chance.  In  shooting  at  long  range,  the  distance  must  be 
correctly  estimated  so  that  the  rear  sight  can  be  properly 
adjusted,  the  rifle  must  be  held  with  great  steadiness,  which 
is  not  easy  to  do,  the  eye  sight  must  be  very  sharp  so  as  to 
distinctly  see  the  game,  the  direction  and  force  of  the  wind 
must  be  taken  into  account,  as  it  is  liable  to  swerve  the  bul- 
let from  its  true  course,  and  the  sunlight,  whether  too  bright 
or  too  dim  has  its  effect.  Shooting  at  a  target  where  the 
distance  is  exactly  known,  and  where  the  target  itself  is  of 
such  a  color  and  so  placed  as  to  be  distinctly  seen,  and  where 
the  rifle  is  equipped  with  peep  sights,  and  wind  gauge,  is 
very  different  from  shooting  at  game  that  is  more  or  less 
indistinctly  seen,  and  where  the  distance  must  be  guessed 
at  and  where  the  wind  and  sun  have  to  be  reckoned  with. 
Two  hundred  yards,  therefore,  is  a  long  shot  for  the  hunt- 
er, and  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  a  very  long  one,  even 
with  our  present  day  long  range  guns. 

It  makes  a  good  deal  of  difference  in  hunting  what 
kind  of  sights  are  used  on  the  gun.  If  the  front  sight  be- 
comes worn  so  that  it  is  bright,  while  it  may  be  all  right  in 
a  cloudy  day  it  will  glimmer  in  the  sunshine,  and  will  be 
apt  to  cause  bad  shooting.  And  besides,  metal  sights  of 
any  kind  cannot  be  clearly  seen  after  dusk.  The  best  sights 
for  hunting  that  I  have  ever  used  are  an  ivory  bead  for  the 
front  sight,  and  a  double  rear  sight  consisting  of  two  pieces 
of  flat  steel  hung  on  a  hinge  so  that  one  or  both  can  be  turned 


140  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

down.  One  of  these  pieces  has  a  notch  just  Hke  any  ordi- 
nary rear  sight — the  other  has  fitted  into  it  a  little  ivory 
triangle.  In  the  day  time  the  part  with  the  triangle  should 
be  turned  down,  using  only  the  sight  with  the  notch.  The 
ivory  front  sight  shows  clear  and  plain  when  seen  through 
the  notch,  and  never  glimmers  in  the  sunshine,  nor  looks 
dull  and  hard  to  see  in  a  dark  day.  When  dusk  comes  on, 
the  sight  with  the  notch  should  be  turned  down  and  the 
ivory  triangle  raised  to  its  proper  place.  The  sight  is  then 
perfectly  caught  when  the  bead  in  front  appears  to  stand 
just  at  the  top  of  the  ivory  triangle.  Good  shooting  can  be 
done  with  such  sights  when  it  is  too  dark  to  use  the  ordinary 
kind.  A  peep  sight  can  also  be  added  to  these  ivory  sights, 
but  when  the  peep  sight  is  used  the  double  rear  sight  should 
be  turned  down  so  as  to  be  out  of  the  way.  The  peep  sight 
is  not  often  needed  but  is  convenient  in  making  a  long  range 
shot.  The  peep  sight  should  be  graduated  for  any  distance 
from  a  hundred  yards  up  to  half  a  mile. 

With  sights  such  as  have  been  described  above,  a  man 
with  eyesight  quite  defective  can  do  pretty  good  shooting, 
when  he  would  make  an  utter  failure  with  ordinary  sights. 
A  hunter  should  be  dressed  in  clothing  that  corresponds  in 
color  with  the  landscape  over  which  he  is  to  hunt.  When 
game  has  been  sighted  at  a  distance  the  hat  or  cap  should 
be  trimmed  with  grass  before  making  the  approach.  In 
the  winter  if  there  is  snow  deep  enough  to  cover  most  of 
the  grass,  the  cap  should  be  covered  with  a  white  cloth, 
and  the  shoulders  wrapped  in  a  white  sheet.  In  such  a 
dress,  when  there  was  a  foot  or  so  of  snow  on  the  ground, 
I  have  crawled  up  to  deer  close  enough  for  a  fair  shot  with- 
out alarming  them,  and  yet  they  were  looking  my  way.  It 
is  probable  that  they  could  not  tell  what  it  was.  Had  the 
attempt  been  made  to  get  near  enough  for  a  shot  by  w'alk- 
ing  erect,  or  even  in  a  stooping  posture,  it  would  have  failed. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  141 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  Hunting  Trip  to  Wyoming. 

There  were  only  two  of  us — Charley  and  I,  and  we 
hardly  knew  where  we  were  bound  for.  It  had  been  several 
years  since  I  had  been  away  on  a  hunting  trip,  and  what 
hunting  had  fallen  to  my  lot  in  the  past  had  mostly  been 
done  in  the  early  days  in  xA.ntelope  county,  or  the  adjacent 
counties  of  Wheeler  and  Holt,  or  sometimes  even  as  far 
away  as  Garfield  and  Custer  counties.  At  the  time  of  which 
I  am  now  writing,  the  elk  and  the  antelope  had  entirely  dis- 
appeared from  my  old  hunting  grounds  in  the  counties 
named  above,  and  deer  were  scarce,  and  what  few  were  left 
in  the  sandhills  of  Garfield  and  other  counties  were  wild 
and  hard  to  find,  and  still  harder  to  get  a  shot  at  when 
found.  But  the  spell  had  come  upon  me,  and  for  months 
I  had  been  longing,  and  for  weeks  planning  for  the  trip. 
It  so  happened  that  this  fall  I  could  get  release  for  a  few 
weeks  from  business,  and  it  was  too  good  a  chance  to  lose. 
Much  of  the  time  for  years  I  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the 
B.  &  M.  Railroad  company,  as  land  examiner  and  appraiser, 
consequently  being  furnished  with  annual  passes  not  only 
over  their  own  road  but  over  the  C.  &  N.  W.  and  it  branches 
as  well;  it  cost  me  nothing  for  transportation.  I  owned  a 
new  Winchester  rifle,  caliber  45-75,  which  had  seen  very 
little  use.  I  said  the  rifle  was  new,  and  in  fact  it  was,  al- 
though it  had  been  about  eight  years  since  it  was  bought, 
there  having  been  little  chance  in  all  that  time  to  use  it, 
hence  it  looked  almost  as  clean  and  new  as  when  it  first 
came  from  the  factory.  Conditions  for  the  trip  were  all 
favorable,  and  the  impulse  was  on  me — it  could  not  be  re- 
sisted. 


142  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

Charley,  my  companion  for  the  trip,  was  a  drummer. 
This  does  not  mean  that  he  pounded  the  bass,  or  tap  tapped 
the  snare  drum  for  the  Oakdale  band,  but  that  he  was  a 
travehng  salesman  for  an  eastern  wholesale  hat  and  cap 
house.  He  had  been  off  duty  for  several  months,  taking  care 
of  his  father  who  was  confined  to  the  house  with  an  incur- 
able disease.  Being  used  to  an  active  out  of  door  life,  the 
confinement  necessary  in  caring  for  his  father  was  wearing 
on  him  greatly.  Hence  he  determined  to  take  this  trip  with 
me,  his  father  being  even  more  anxious  than  Charley  him- 
self that  he  should  take  a  few  weeks  of  needed  relaxation. 

It  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
of  a  bright  pleasant  day  in  the  latter  part  of  November, 
1888,  that  we  left  Oakdale  for  some  station  in  Wyoming, 
being  undecided  as  yet  as  to  what  point  we  would  leave  the 
railroad.  At  that  time  that  branch  of  the  railroad  running 
west  from  Chadron,  was  completed  to  Casper,  Wyoming. 

Our  plan  of  campaign  was  as  follows:  We  would  go 
by  railroad  to  some  point  in  Wyoming — possibly  Van  Tas- 
sell  or  Manville  or  Douglas,  but  probably  Glenrock.  At 
whatever  place  we  left  the  railroad  we  intended  to  buy  a 
pony  and  a  pack  saddle  to  carry  the  blankets,  cooking  uten- 
sils and  provisions  necessary  for  the  trip.  We  would  then 
strike  out  afoot  in  a  northerly  direction,  leading  the  pony 
with  the  packs,  and  hunt  and  camp  out  as  long  as  we  wished, 
and  finally  when  it  was  time  to  start  for  home  we  would 
turn  to  the  east  and  strike  the  Black  Hills  branch  of  the 
railroad  at  Rapid  City  or  Buffalo  Gap,  sell  the  pony  for  what 
he  would  bring,  and  come  back  home  by  rail. 

We  did  not  expect  to  find  game  very  plentiful,  as  it 
was  thought  that  the  deer  had  been  greatly  thinned  out  in 
the  country  which  we  proposed  to  traverse,  but  it  was  sup- 
posed that  there  were  a  few  black  tail  deer  left  among  the 
rough  canyons  of  Hat  Creek,  and  probably  some  bands  of 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  143 

antelope  on  the  open  plains,  and  surely  there  would  be  sharp- 
tail  grouse  and  rabbits,  even  if  no  larger  game  should  be 
met  with. 

Charley  decided,  against  my  advice  and  over  my  pro- 
tests, to  take  his  double  barrel  shot  gun  instead  of  borrow- 
ing a  rifle  for  the  trip.  He  was  an  expect  at  hunting  prairie 
chicken  and  ducks,  but  had  never  used  a  rifle,  nor  had  he 
ever  seen  a  wild  deer.  He  believed  that  in  the  rough  coun- 
try through  which  we  were  to  go  he  could  do  better  work 
with  his  shot  gun  and  buck  shot,  should  deer  be  found, 
than  he  could  with  a  rifle.  The  result  proved  that  he  was 
mistaken. 

It  was  not  the  intention  to  take  along  a  tent,  or  to  be 
encumbered  with  any  unnecessary  luggage  of  any  kind.  We 
were  going  to  have  a  good  time  roughing  it.  From  home 
our  luggage  consisted  of  two  compact  bundles,  containing 
our  blankets,  a  coffee  pot,  an  eight  quart  tin  pail  with  cover, 
two  frying  pans,  two  tin  cups,  two  knives  and  forks  and 
spoons,  a  hatchet,  a  butcher  knife,  a  tin  pan,  a  wash  basin, 
some  tin  plates,  and  also  such  articles  as  towels,  soap,  and 
changes  of  socks  and  underwear.  These  packages  did  nOt 
weigh  more  than  sixty  pounds  each.  Our  provisions  we 
would  buy  at  whatever  place  we  were  to  leave  the  railroad, 
and  it  was  estimated  that  the  entire  outfit  when  ready  to 
pack  upon  the  pony  would  weigh  considerably  less  than  two 
hundred  pounds.  The  guns  and  our  belts  filled  with  cart- 
ridges were  carried  in  our  hands  or  on  our  persons,  as  were 
also  combs,  tooth  brushes  and  matches.  Of  course  our  packs 
contained  also  a  necessary  supply  of  spare  ammunition  as 
well  as  two  or  three  packages  of  Charley's  smoking  tobacco. 
I  carried  also  a  very  excellent  pocket  compass,  a  field  glass 
and  a  large  pocket  knife.  It  should  also  be  stated  that  we 
had  with  us  needles,  thread,  buttons,  safety  pins,  buckskin 
strings  and  perhaps  some  other  small  articles  not  now  re- 
called to  mind.    It  was  found  out  after  we  were  away  from 


144  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  railroad  and  well  established  in  camp  that  nothing  had 
been  forgotten,  and  that  everything  actually  necessary  for 
such  a  trip  had  been  provided. 

The  railroad  trip  from  Oakdale  was  uneventful.  Chad- 
ron  was  reached  about  six  o'clock  the  next  morning,  and 
here  we  had  to  change  cars,  the  passenger  train  which 
brought  us  thus  far  going  on  north  to  the  Black  Hills.  We 
had  to  wait  at  Chadron  until  after  seven  o'clock  for  the  train 
going  west  into  Wyoming.  This  was  a  freight  train  with 
one  passenger  coach  attached,  there  being  at  that  date  no 
passenger  train  west  of  Chadron,  on  what  is  now  known 
as  the  Lander  route.  Before  leaving  Chadron  we  had  de- 
cided to  go  as  far  west  as  Glenrock.  This  conclusion  was 
reached  after  having  consulted  with  several  persons  who 
were  acquainted  with  that  country;  their  advice  being  that 
Glenrock  was  the  best  point  west  of  Chadron  to  purchase 
such  things  as  would  be  needed  for  our  trip.  The  engine 
that  drew  our  train  was  old  and  out  of  repair  and  it  took  all 
day  and  into  the  night  to  reach  Glenrock.  At  one  time 
where  there  was  an  up  grade  I  got  out  and  walked  for  half 
a  mile  by  the  side  of  the  train,  and  this  feat  could  have  been 
repeated  a  number  of  times.  From  Chadron  west  the  road 
has  an  up  grade  most  of  the  way  to  Keeline,  which  is  on 
the  summit  at  the  head  of  the  Niobrara  river,  and  which 
has  an  elevation  of  about  5000  feet.  From  Keeline  west  it 
is  mostly  a  down  grade  to  Douglas,  where  the  valley  of  the 
North  Platte  is  reached,  and  from  Douglas  west  to  Glen- 
rock it  is  up  hill  again.  At  Douglas  the  first  view  was  had 
of  the  mountains,  Laramie  Peak  being  in  plain  sight  about 
forty  miles  to  the  south.  Laramie  Peak  is  quite  a  famous 
mountain,  it  being  the  highest  point  of  what  are  now  known 
as  the  Laramie  mountains,  and  it  is  said  to  have  an  eleva- 
tion of  10,000  feet.  It  looked  to  me  Hke  an  old  friend,  and 
I  hailed  it  as  such.  In  the  year  1852,  in  the  month  of  July, 
I  had  driven  a  team  of  four  yoke  of  cattle  wearily  along  the 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  145 

old  Oregon  Trail,  going  right  through  the  place  where 
Douglas  now  stands,  the  grand  old  Laramie  mountain  being 
in  plain  sight  for  several  days,  a  broad  patch  of  snow  partly 
covering  its  northern  slope.  On  this  hunting  trip,  it  was  at 
Douglas  that  we  first  struck  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  and  Lar- 
amie Peak  was  the  first  familiar  object  that  was  recognized. 

The  Black  Hills  and  the  Laramie  mountains  are  out- 
lying ranges  of  the  Rocky  mountains,  and  are  separated 
therefrom  by  a  high  country  of  broken  hills,  steep  gulches, 
narrow  valleys  and  level  or  undulating  plains,  some  of  them 
of  considerable  size,  but  much  of  it  sterile  and  more  or  less 
thickly  strewn  with  rocks.  What  we  now  call  the  Black 
Hills  lying  partly  in  South  Dakota  and  partly  in  Wyoming, 
north  of  the  North  Platte  river,  and  what  we  call  the  Lara 
mie  mountains,  lying  south  of  the  North  Platte,  were  until 
quite  recently  all  called  Black  Hills.  The  two  ranges  in 
fact  do  form  one  continuous  range,  the  North  Platte  river 
having  ages  ago  forced  its  way  through  a  low  place  in  the 
range,  thereby  forming  what  is  known  as  the  North  Platte 
canyon. 

Arriving  at  Glenrock  about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  it  was 
decided  not  to  go  up  town  to  spend  the  balance  of  the  night, 
but  instead  to  find  some  place  to  camp  until  the  morning. 
There  was  no  moon,  but  the  night  was  starlit  and  not  very 
dark.  Having  already  eaten  luncheon  on  the  train,  we 
shouldered  our  packs  and  taking  our  guns  in  hand  picked 
our  way  through  the  darkness  down  along  the  bank  of  Deer 
Creek  until  a  level  grassy  place  was  found  among  the  trees 
that  lined  the  banks  of  the  stream.  The  bed  was  soon  made, 
and  here  we  spent  our  first  night  in  camp.  The  night  was 
clear  and  cold,  but  we  had  plenty  of  covers  and  as  we  re- 
moved only  our  coats  and  boots  before  getting  into  bed  we 
were  warm  and  comfortable  throughout  the  night. 

The  next  morning  was  clear  and  very  frosty,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  fairly  daylight,  leaving  everything  in  camp 


146  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

but  our  guns,  we  went  up  town,  which  was  less  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  away,  to  look  around,  make  inquiries,  and  hunt 
for  a  hot  breakfast.  There  was  one  hotel  in  the  town  and 
one  restaurant.  Going  to  the  restaurant  for  breakfast,  it 
was  found  to  be  a  large,  well  equipped  place,  and  the  break- 
fast was  already  well  under  way.  Having  washed,  I  was 
standing  in  front  of  the  glass  combing  my  hair  when  some- 
one called  out:  ''Hello  Leach,  what  are  you  doing  here?" 
Looking  around  I  saw  Ed  Baker,  formerly  a  grocer  and 
grain  dealer  at  Columbus,  Neb.  I  had  not  seen  him  since 
the  railroad  had  come  to  Antelope  county,  but  in  the  seven- 
ties had  sold  him  many  a  load  of  wheat,  and  had  bought  of 
him  many  times  a  supply  of  groceries.  He  was  now  one 
of  the  leading  business  men  of  Glenrock,  being  secretary 
of  the  Deer  Creek  Coal  company.  After  breakfast  Charley 
soon  run  on  to  an  old  acquaintance  of  his  by  the  name  of 
Abbott  whom  he  had  known  at  Albion,  Neb.,  Mr.  Abbott 
having  been  at  one  time  postmaster  at  that  place. 

Glenrock  was  a  little  village  of  400  or  500  people.  It 
had  sprung  into  existence  only  a  few  years  previously,  and 
was  the  result  of  the  discovery  of  the  Deer  Creek  coal  mines. 
The  town  was  made  up  of  a  few  business  men  and  their 
families  and  the  coal  miners  and  their  famiHes,  the  miners 
greatly  outnumbering  all  the  others.  It  was  a  rough  look- 
ing and  a  rough  acting  place,  like  all  such  western  towns, 
but  like  all  such  places  the  people  of  all  classes  were  friendly, 
sociable  and  kindly  disposed.  Nowhere  else  will  the  strang- 
er, if  he  behaves  himself  properly,  be  received  with  more 
hearty  good  will  than  on  our  western  frontier,  whether  it  be 
in  the  new  built  town  or  among  the  settlers  or  cattle  ranch- 
ers on  the  prairies. 

Having  told  our  plans  to  Messrs.  Baker  and  Abbott, 
they  decided  at  once  that  they  ought  to  be  modified.  There 
was  no  use  they  said  of  buying  a  pony — Mr.  Abbott  would 
loan  one  to  us,  and  Mr.  Baker  would  lend  us  a  pack  saddle. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  147 

There  was  game  in  the  vicinity  of  Glenrock,  so  Mr.  Baker 
knew,  because  the  hunters  were  bringing  in  deer  and  ante- 
lope for  sale  every  few  days.  Mr.  Abbott  had  been  out  into 
the  surrounding  country  considerably  and  had  hunted  some 
himself  .  He  told  us  that  among  the  rough  hills  at  the  head 
of  Sand  creek,  about  twenty  miles  north  of  Glenrock,  there 
were  blacktail  deer,  and  although  he  thought  they  were  not 
very  plentiful,  we  had  better  try  our  luck  in  that  direction — 
that  antelope  would  be  found  in  great  numbers  in  the  smooth 
country  before  reaching  the  hills.  We  thought  their  advice 
good,  and  at  once  began  to  act  upon  it. 

The  restaurant  furnished  us  with  what  bread  could  be 
spared  and  baked  up  a  lot  of  biscuit,  which  are  better  for 
a  camping  trip  than  loaf  bread.  At  one  of  the  stores  we 
bought  bacon,  sugar,  salt,  pepper,  tea  and  coflfee,  and  at 
Charley's  suggestion  two  or  three  cans  of  condensed  milk. 
By  noon  everything  was  in  readiness,  and  after  dinner  a 
dray  was  engaged  to  carry  our  truck  across  the  North  Platte 
river,  the  pony  being  tied  behind.  It  was  thought  best  not 
to  load  the  things  on  the  pony's  back  until  the  north  bank 
was  reached,  lest  he  might  take  a  notion  to  lie  down  in  mid- 
stream. Arriving  at  the  north  bank  of  the  stream  the  dray- 
man was  paid  for  his  services  and  he  returned  to  Glenrock. 
The  packs  were  soon  arranged  on  the  pony's  back,  and  all 
covered  with  a  tarpaulin,  which  Mr.  Baker  insisted  on  lend- 
ing to  us.  The  tarpaulin  was  to  be  spread  upon  the  ground 
at  night  and  the  bed  to  be  made  upon  one  half  and  the  other 
half  turned  back  over  the  bed  and  tucked  under  at  the  sides, 
thus  keeping  out  the  winds  should  they  happen  to  blow, 
which  was  generally  the  case. 

The  North  Platte  river  in  this  part  of  Wyoming  is  about 
two  hundred  steps  wide,  with  generally  a  rocky  bottom,  and 
from  one  to  two  feet  deep  where  we  crossed  it,  the  current 
being  rapid,  though  probably  not  more  so  than  it  is  gener- 
ally throughout  its  Nebraska  course.    We  were  now  on  the 


148  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

north  side  of  the  river,  at  the  mouth  of  Sand  Creek,  and 
ready  to  start  out  on  our  trip  up  the  creek  valley  to  the  high 
hills  that  could  be  dimly  seen  to  the  north,  and  said  to  be 
twenty  miles  away.  Sand  Creek  is  about  thirty  feet  wide, 
with  a  sandy  bed,  low  banks,  and  very  shallow  water,  and 
at  the  time  we  were  there  entirely  dry  in  places,  the  water 
standing  often  only  in  occasional  pools.  It  has  a  valley 
from  one  to  two  miles  wide  and  undulating  tracts  of  land 
on  either  side  of  its  valley,  the  whole  rising  gradually  as  one 
goes  north,  and  becoming  rough,  broken,  high  and  rocky 
as  the  head  of  the  valley  is  approached.  We  were  now  fair- 
ly on  our  way — everything  had  gone  well  so  far — could  not 
have  been  better  or  more  to  our  liking. 

Within  a  mile  of  the  river  we  flushed  a  covey  of  sage 
hens,  and  Charley  brought  down  one  with  each  barrel  of 
his  gun  as  they  rose  to  fly.  The  sage  hen  is  a  species 
of  plains  grouse  about  twice  as  large  as  the  sharp  tail  grouse. 
A  flock  of  them  reminds  one  strongly  of  a  flock  of  half 
grown  wild  turkeys.  Our  supper  was  now  provided  for  as 
it  seemed,  but  I  had  strong  doubts  about  it,  as  I  had  become 
acquainted  with  the  merits  of  the  sage  hen  many  years  be- 
fore. However,  we  cooked  them  for  supper,  but  made  our 
meal  principally  on  biscuit,  fried  bacon  and  tea,  the  sage 
hens  having  too  strong  a  flavor  of  their  natural  food,  the 
leaves  and  buds  of  the  artemisia  or  wild  sage.  It  is  said 
that  the  young  ones  in  August  and  September,  when  their 
food  is  chiefly  grasshoppers  and  crickets,  are  excellent  eat- 
ing. It  has  never  been  my  lot  to  taste  one  at  that  time  of 
year. 

About  four  o'clock,  as  the  November  days  are  short, 
finding  a  nice,  grassy,  sheltered  place,  we  went  into  camp, 
gathered  a  big  pile  of  dry  sage  brush  for  fuel,  cooked  and 
ate  supper,  staked  out  the  pony  where  the  grass  was  good, 
made  down  our  bed,  put  on  our  coats  and  over  these  a  blan- 
ket, for  the  evening  was  cool  and  a  moderate  north  wind 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  149 

was  blowing;  then  Charley  lighted  his  pipe,  and  while  he 
smoked  we  talked  and  told  stories,  and  laid  plans,  and  look- 
ed at  the  stars  and  picked  out  all  that  we  could  call  by  name, 
every  now  and  then  replenishing  the  fire,  until  as  "slumber 
began  to  press  the  eyelids"  we  turned  in  and  slept  soundly 
until  the  morning. 


150  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XX. 
A  Hunting  Trip  to  Wyoming — Continued. 

We  were  up  the  next  morning  as  soon  as  daylight  be- 
gan to  streak  the  eastern  sky,  and  while  one  of  us  changed 
the  pony  to  a  place  where  the  pasturage  was  fresh,  the  other 
kindled  the  fire,  put  over  the  coffee  pot,  and  began  to  make 
ready  for  breakfast.  It  does  not  take  long  to  get  breakfast 
when  the  bread  is  already  on  hand,  and  only  coffee  has  to 
be  boiled  and  the  bacon  fried.  We  did  not  use  what  re- 
mained of  the  sage  hens,  for  what  we  had  for  supper  was 
enough  for  the  whole  trip.  But  the  breakfast  was  good 
and  was  thoroughly  enjoyed.  The  best  staple  provisions  for 
the  camp  are  bread,  bacon  and  coffee,  and  whoever  cannot 
enjoy  such  a  diet,  had  better  not  try  camping  out,  except- 
ing in  his  own  dooryard.  Our  appetites  were  good,  our 
spirits  buoyant  and  elastic,  our  hopes  high;  everything  so 
far  having  worked  to  our  advantage,  and  whether  the  hunt 
for  game  was  successful  or  not,  we  believed,  if  the  weather 
held  good,  that  our  outing  would  be  a  grand  success.  We 
did  not  really  expect  to  get  much  game,  and  in  fact  did  not 
care  to,  but  we  hoped  to  get  a  deer  or  two  just  to  have  a 
taste  of  venison,  and  to  add  variety  and  zest  to  what  was 
already  becoming  an  interesting  trip. 

That  forenoon  the  only  mishap  occurred  that  happened 
during  the  whole  trip.  Something  went  wrong,  we  did  not 
know  what,  and  the  pony  began  to  buck,  and  he  kept  it  up 
in  the  most  strenuous  manner,  until  a  part  of  the  pack  was 
scattered  around  on  the  ground  and  the  balance,  with  the 
saddle,  was  under  his  belly.  All  at  once  he  quit  as  sudden- 
ly as  he  begun,  and  standing  very  quiet,  allowed  us  to  re- 
arrange and  repack  the  luggage,  which  we  did  this  time 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  151 

with  renewed  care,  as  we  thought  his  recent  freak  was 
occasioned  from  some  ill  adjustment  of  the  load. 

We  saw  no  signs  of  deer,  but  about  noon  a  few  ante- 
lope were  seen  at  a  distance  but  not  in  position  to  approach. 
Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  some  antelope  were 
seen  feeding  about  half  a  mile  away.  We  were  in  the  creek 
valley,  partly  screened  from  view  by  clumps  of  sage  brush 
— the  antelope  being  on  the  undulating  table  land  to  the 
west,  and  apparently  not  yet  having  seen  us.  I  went  after 
them,  Charley,  in  the  meantime,  hiding  with  the  pony,  be- 
hind a  dense  bunch  of  sage  brush.  The  approach  was  easy 
by  taking  advantage  of  some  low  knolls  and  frequent  patches 
of  sage  brush,  and  at  certain  places  by  lying  flat  and  crawl- 
ing through  the  grass.  Getting  within  easy  range  I  got  one 
at  a  standing  shot,  and  put  in  a  second  shot  as  they  ran  off. 
The  first  one  fell  after  a  jump  or  two,  but  the  second  one 
following  the  herd  a  short  distance,  turned  off  by  itself 
and  was  lost.  I  spent  some  time  looking  for  it,  but  had  to 
give  it  up,  and  returning  to  the  first  one,  cut  out  the  hind 
quarters,  and  throwing  them  on  my  shoulder  started  back, 
leaving  the  fore  quarters  to  the  wolves.  A  day  or  two  later 
I  found  the  carcass  of  the  second  antelope.  It  had  not  been 
found  by  the  wolves,  but  the  meat  was  spoiled,  the  weather 
through  the  middle  of  the  day  having  become  warm.  Even 
in  real  cold  weather  the  meat  will  become  more  or  less 
tainted  unless  the  intestines  and  stomach  are  removed. 

So  much  time  had  been  wasted  in  hunting  for  the 
wounded  antelope  that  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  or  not 
the  hills  toward  which  we  had  been  traveling  all  day  could 
be  reached  before  dark.  They  were  now  in  plain  sight  not 
over  three  miles  away,  one  of  which  being  higher  and  more 
prominent  than  the  others,  having  on  its  extreme  summit 
a  single  "lonesome  pine."  Others  hills  in  the  vicinity  of 
this  one  were  partly  covered  with  a  growth  of  scrubby  pine 
trees  and  altogether  it  looked  very  inviting  as  a  camping 


152  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ground.  But  it  was  too  late  to  get  there,  and  as  darkness 
began  to  come  on  we  turned  aside  and  made  camp  in  a 
ravine.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  camp,  in  fact  it  was  the  worst 
one  of  the  whole  trip,  the  ground  being  uneven  and  too 
sloping  for  a  good  place  to  spread  the  bed,  and  the  sage- 
brush, our  only  fuel,  although  plentiful  was  not  of  thrifty 
growth.  However,  the  night  was  fine  and  we  had  antelope 
steak  for  supper,  and  so  far  the  trip  had  been  a  success, 
exceeding  our  anticipations.  Charley's  pipe  was  filled  and 
refilled  and  filled  again,  and  we  sat  and  talked  and  laid  plans 
for  the  next  day.  Charley's  tobacco  was  of  good  quality, 
and  I  took  care  to  sit  where  I  could  catch  a  whiff  of  its 
fragrant  fumes  now  and  then,  and  thought  I  was  enjoying 
it  as  much  as  Charley  himself.  When  camping  out  it  is 
always  a  pleasure  to  have  a  good  smoker  in  camp,  provided, 
of  course,  that  he  uses  good  tobacco.  It  was  arranged  that 
the  next  morning  I  should  go  in  the  direction  of  the  "lone- 
some pine,"  which  now  was  not  more  than  a  mile  and  a 
half  away,  and  look  out  a  good  place  for  a  permanent  camp, 
while  Charley  with  his  shot  gun,  provided  with  buckshot 
cartridges,  would  hunt  in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp  for  any 
kind  of  game  that  might  be  found. 

I  found  a  good  camping  place  right  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliff  of  the  lone  pine — it  was  protected  on  all  sides  except- 
ing the  east  by  steep  rocky  banks,  the  place  for  the  bed 
being  grassy  and  level,  with  plenty  of  dry  pine  wood  and 
sage  brush  convenient  for  fuel.  There  was  no  water  any- 
where near,  the  last  pool  in  Sand  Creek  being  as  many  as 
three  miles  down  the  creek  to  the  south.  But  we  did  not 
need  the  water,  as  snow  could  be  melted  in  the  coffee  pot 
and  tin  pail  for  all  needed  purposes.  Some  time  before  our 
arrival  there  had  been  a  snow  storm — the  snow  had  drifted 
considerably,  but  was  now  all  melted  except  the  drifts  which 
were  frequent,  and  in  places  from  two  to  three  feet  deep. 
We  had  melted  snow  in  the  tin  pail  for  the  pony,  but  he 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  153 

did  not  care  for  it,  but  like  range  ponies  in  general  preferred 
to  quench  his  thirst  by  eating  snow  from  the  drifts  rather 
than  by  drinking  snow  water  melted  over  a  fire. 

Before  noon  the  camp  had  been  moved  and  we  were 
established  in  new  and  permanent  quarters.  After  dinner 
I  started  northwest  into  the  rough  hills  with  the  rifle.  The 
hills  were  not  very  high,  but  were  exceedingly  rough  and 
rocky,  and  were  timbered  with  a  scanty  growth  of  scrubby 
pirie  trees,  with  numerous  ravines  and  pockets  filled  with  a 
thick  growth  of  red  cedar.  There  were  also  many  patches 
of  ground  juniper,  a  species  of  cedar  that  does  not  grow 
to  be  more  than  a  foot  or  two  high  but  that  spreads  over 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  forming  a  thick  mat.  There 
were  fresh  tracks  of  deer,  and  plenty  of  game  signs.  With- 
out question  we  had  found  the  right  place. 

I  have  neglected  to  state  that  when  we  stopped  for 
dinner  the  day  before,  I  targeted  my  rifle,  not  so  much  to 
test  the  rifle,  but  to  test  my  eyes.  I  had  hunted  very  little 
for  eight  years,  and  was  not  sure  that  my  eyesight  was  keen 
enough  to  do  good  shooting.  Charley  put  up  a  snow  ball 
about  seventy-five  yards  away,  and  taking  a  rest  so  as  to 
be  sure  of  my  aim,  I  fired  and  broke  the  snow  ball.  Char- 
ley said  that  might  have  been  an  accidental  hit,  and  so  he 
put  up  a  second  snow  ball,  which  was  broken  with  a  second 
shot.  I  now  felt  sure  of  myself,  and  wanted  only  to  find 
the  game. 

Up  to  this  time  the  weather  had  been  fine  ever  since 
leaving  home — the  days  were  invariably  sunshiny  and 
bright,  warm  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  the  nights  frosty 
and  cold.  Today,  however,  it  began  to  cloud  over  in  the 
forenoon,  and  I  had  not  gotten  a  mile  from  camp  when  it 
began  to  snow  hard,  with  a  strong  wind  blowing  from  the 
northwest.  I  waited  in  a  sheltered  place,  and  in  a  short 
time  it  stopped  snowing,  but  the  wind  continued  to  blow. 


154  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

Soon  another  snow  squall  came  on,  harder  than  the  first, 
and  fearing  a  blizzard,  made  my  way  hurriedly  back  to 
camp.  The  weather  continued  to  be  squally  during  the 
afternoon  but  it  snowed  very  little  and  cleared  up  in  the 
evening. 

Next  morning  we  started  out  early,  each  going  his  own 
way,  as  we  both  chose  to  hunt  separately.  The  best  time 
to  hunt  black  tail  deer  is  early  in  the  morning  and  late  in 
the  afternoon,  because  they  are  then  up  and  feeding,  ex- 
cepting in  a  dark,  dreary  kind  of  a  day,  when  they  are  apt 
to  be  abroad  at  any  time.  We  were  in  a  black  tail  country 
and  I  knew  it,  because  they  like  a  rough  country,  and  this 
was  rough,  and  because  I  had  seen  plenty  of  signs  of  their 
presence  the  previous  day.  I  went  directly  into  the  hills 
to  the  northwest.  The  hills  were  very  rough,  rocky  and 
steep  and  some  of  them  moderately  high,  timbered  in  places 
with  a  growth  of  scrubby  pine  trees  and  occasional  thickets 
of  little  young  pines,  with  narrow  draws  and  pockets  in  the 
hillsides  filled  with  a  thick  growth  of  red  cedar.  Going  up 
hill  and  down  hill  for  about  a  mile,  I  crossed  a  narrow  val- 
ley, then  up  the  side  of  a  low  very  steep  ridge.  This  ridge 
was  very  narrow,  covered  with  rocks  of  all  sizes  from  that 
of  a  pebble  to  that  of  a  good  sized  chicken  house,  and 
timbered  with  pine  and  cedar  thickets.  Just  as  the  top  of 
the  ridge  was  reached  I  caught  sight  of  a  black  tail  doe. 
She  was  running  along  the  ridge  to  the  southwest  and  was 
out  of  sight  before  there  was  any  chance  to  shoot.  About 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  in  the  direction  the  doe  was  running, 
the  ridge  widened,  and  joined  the  main  hill,  which  was  at 
that  place  quite  thickly  covered  with  pine  trees,  some  of 
them  quite  large,  but  without  under  growth,  so  that  a  deer 
might  be  seen  almost  anywhere  in  the  timber.  Following 
on  carefully,  I  had  gone  about  half  way  to  the  hill,  when 
I  stopped  to  look  and  listen,  shielded  from  sight  by  a  big 
rock  that  was  as  high  as  my  shoulders.    There  was  nothing 


Black    Tail    Deer. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  155 

in  sight — the  old  doe  had  doubtless  gone  on  over  the  hill. 
I  was  just  ready  to  follow  when  there  was  a  slight  noise 
on  a  side  hill  some  distance  to  my  right.  In  a  moment  I 
saw  two  black  tail  bucks  traveling  slowly  along  the  side  hill, 
one  behind  the  other.  They  were  across  a  deep  ravine,  and 
about  forty  rods  away.  I  might  have  taken  a  shot,  but 
wanted  a  better  chance.  They  kept  on,  going  slowly,  circling 
gradually  to  the  left,  and  keeping  about  the  same  distance 
from  my  position  until  they  came  to  the  timbered  hill  in 
front,  when  they  turned  and  came  almost  directly  towards 
me.  Only  my  head  and  arms  were  in  sight  and  as  I  kept 
perfectly  still  they  did  not  notice  me  at  all.  They  kept  com- 
ing on,  until  when  within  about  seventy-five  steps  I  fired 
at  the  one  behind.  He  gave  two  or  three  big  jumps  and 
fell.  The  other  instead  of  running  off  gave  a  bound  or  two 
and  turned  to  look  at  the  fallen  deer.  I  fired,  but  too  hastily 
and  the  ball  struck  too  far  back.  He  turned,  and  runnmg 
directly  toward  me,  was  brought  down  by  a  second  shot 
when  not  more  than  twenty  steps  away.  I  dressed  them 
both,  cut  off  the  hind  quarters,  and  inserting  a  gambrel  in 
each  hung  the  quarters  up  in  a  pine  tree  out  of  reach  of  the 
wolves.  Then  cutting  out  of  each  of  the  fore  quarters  the 
thick  meat  along  the  backbone  just  back  of  the  shoulders 
and  securing  it  with  a  buckskin  string  so  that  it  could  be 
slung  over  the  gun  to  be  carried  to  camp,  was  ready  to  go 
as  soon  as  my  hands  had  been  washed  in  a  near  by  snow 
bank. 

It  was  not  quite  noon,  but  luncheon  was  eaten  before 
starting  out  again.  I  did  not  care  either  to  hunt  for  game 
any  more  that  day,  or  to  go  back  and  spend  the  whole  after- 
noon in  camp,  and  therefore  concluded  to  do  a  little  explor- 
ing. There  was  a  deep  ravine  on  either  side  of  the  ridge 
where  the  deer  were  killed — these  two  ravines  coming  to- 
gether less  than  half  a  mile  to  the  north  formed  a  little  val- 
ley in  which  about  a  mile  away  were  several  cottonwood 


156  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

trees  of  good  size.  This  indicated  water — I  would  go  and 
see.  There  was  no  water — only  the  bed  of  a  dried  up  pool. 
While  exploring  around  among  the  cottonwood  trees  I  saw 
two  or  three  deer  about  half  a  mile  further  down  the  valley, 
and  looking  through  the  field  glass  distinctly  saw  ten  or 
twelve,  nearly  all  lying  down,  one  of  them  being  a  large 
buck  with  big  horns.  I  wanted  those  horns.  Before  going 
on  the  trip  I  had  promised  to  my  friends  two  deers'  heads, 
provided  they  could  be  had,  which  was  not  very  probable. 
The  approach  was  not  difficult,  the  bottom  of  the  ravine 
affording  good  cover.  When  within  a  dozen  rods  of  the 
deer  an  old  doe  stepped  out  in  plain  sight;  it  was  an  easy 
mark,  but  she  was  not  wanted.  Luckily  I  was  lying  flat 
on  the  ground  and  was  not  seen.  Presently  she  stepped 
back  out  of  sight,  and  I  continued  to  crawl  along  until  a 
big  rock  about  four  feet  high  was  reached.  I  knew  the 
deer  were  very  close,  and  that  I  would  be  seen  as  soon  as  I 
stood  up.  Such  a  time,  as  everyone  knows  who  has  hunted 
big  game,  is  a  very  interesting  moment.  It  was  worth  the 
whole  trip  just  to  have  one  such  chance  as  this,  and  such 
a  chance  does  not  often  come,  even  to  those  who  make  hunt- 
ing a  business.  I  had  debated  in  my  mind  while  hidden  in 
the  bed  of  the  dry  creek  whether  to  remain  there  until  the 
deer  got  up  to  feed,  or  to  try  to  crawl  to  the  rock.  I  de- 
cided to  go  to  the  rock,  and  now  I  knew  that  as  soon  as 
the  deer  discovered  me  they  would  be  off  in  an  instant  and 
probably  a  running  shot  would  have  to  be  taken  with  the 
risk  of  missing.  Making  ready  to  fire,  the  rifle  at  my 
shoulder  and  finger  on  the  trigger,  I  slowly  raised  my  head. 
The  old  buck  was  the  first  deer  seen,  not  more  than  twenty 
steps  away,  only  his  head  and  neck  visible,  and  looking  my 
way.  He  never  moved,  probably  not  just  knowing  what  it 
was.  I  made  a  quick  shot  at  his  head  and  he  dropped,  the 
others  running  off  nnd  before  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was 
doing  I  fired  again,  bringing  down  another  deer.    They  ran 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  157 

only  a  short  distance  when  they  stopped,  turned  about  and 
looked  at  me.  I  took  aim  at  another  but  put  down  the  rifle 
without  firing — I  had  enough  for  the  first  day's  hunting. 
The  buck  had  a  fine  set  of  horns,  and  I  afterward  had  the 
head  mounted  by  Sessions  &  Bell  of  Norfolk.  It  is  now 
owned  by  my  oldest  daughter.  Some  years  ago  it  took  the 
premium  at  the  state  fair  as  the  finest  speciment  of  the  kind 
on  exhibition.  This  had  been  my  lucky  day,  only  twice  in 
all  my  hunting  experiences  have  I  had  better  luck  than  on 
this  day.  Once  I  killed  three  elk  in  a  day  and  once  two  elk 
and  four  deer.  This  day  I  had  killed  four  deer  at  five  shots. 
Often  I  would  only  get  one,  if  any  at  five  shots. 

It  took  a  good  part  of  the  next  day  to  get  the  game 
into  camp  and  we  did  no  hunting.  We  then  moved  camp 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  a  place  thought  to  be  more  con- 
venient; this,  however,  not  taking  up  a  great  deal  of  time. 
We  then  hunted  two  or  three  days  more  with  indifferent 
success.  I  got  in  several  shots,  getting  only  two  deer  and 
doing  some  very  poor  shooting.  One  is  apt  to  get  careless 
in  hunting,  and  even  if  one  tries  to  be  careful,  some  poor 
shooting  is  apt  to  be  done.  I  got  one  very  fine  standing 
shot  at  a  large  doe  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  off,  and 
never  touched  her.  This  surprised  me  so  that  I  did  not 
throw  in  another  cartridge  until  she  was  out  of  reach.  At 
another  time  I  shot  at  a  large  buck  that  was  running  past 
within  easy  range — it  ought  to  have  been  a  dead  shot,  but 
the  ball  struck  too  far  back,  and  so  high  up  that  he  could 
not  be  followed  by  the  blood.  Charley  could  not  coax  the 
deer  up  close  enough  to  reach  them  with  his  shot  gun,  and 
he  did  not  have  good  luck  in  approaching  them,  so  that  in 
all  this  time  he  did  not  get  a  shot.  However,  we  had  six 
deer  on  hand,  besides  what  was  left  of  the  antelope — we  were 
about  out  of  bread,  and  some  arrangement  must  be  made 
to  get  our  game  to  town.  What  we  did  do,  and  how  we 
did  it,  will  be  told  in  the  next  chapter. 


158  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XXL 
A  Hunting  Trip  to  Wyoming — Concluded. 

During  the  evening,  while  Charley  smoked,  we  talked 
matters  over  and  concluded  what  to  do.  It  was  decided 
that  next  day  I  should  go  to  town  with  the  pony,  get  a 
supply  of  biscuit  and  what  else  might  be  needed  and  make 
arrangements  to  have  a  man  and  team  come  out  to  our  camp 
in  about  a  week  to  haul  in  the  game.  It  was  expected  that 
I  could  get  back  to  camp  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon 
the  second  day,  Charley  in  the  meantime  keeping  camp  and 
hunting  with  the  shot  gun.  I  offered  to  take  his  gun  with 
me  and  leave  the  rifle,  but  he  would  not  do  it. 

The  next  morning  I  got  an  early  start,  riding  the  pony 
part  of  the  time,  and  part  of  the  time  leading  him,  as  the 
pack  saddle  was  uncomfortable  as  a  riding  saddle,  to  say 
the  least.  About  ten  o'clock  when  half  way  to  the  river  I 
came  across  a  wagon  and  a  tent  pitched  by  the  side  of  it. 
There  was  no  one  around  but  soon  a  man  came  carrying 
a  22  calibre  rifle  with  which  he  had  been  hunting  rabbits. 
He  said  that  there  were  three  men  in  the  party — that  the 
horses  had  strayed  and  the  other  two  men  were  hunting 
them — that  they  hailed  from  Cheyenne,  were  out  hunting — 
had  been  out  three  weeks  and  had  killed  one  deer.  On  hear- 
ing my  story,  he  offered  to  loan  me  a  riding  horse  and 
saddle  if  I  would  wait  until  the  men  came  in  with  the  horses. 
His  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  and  the  coffee  was  put  over 
to  boil,  and  by  the  time  the  horses  came  dinner  was  ready. 

i  .nner  over  I  was  furnished  with  a  riding  horse  and 
saddle,  and  mounting  was  soon  on  the  way  to  Glenrock, 
leading  the  pack  pony.  That  afternoon  and  evening  I  got 
the  landlady  at  the  hotel  to  bake  a  good  supply  of  biscuit, 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  159 

made  the  necessary  purchases,  and  started  for  camp  early 
in  the  morning.  Before  noon  I  was  back  at  the  camp  of 
our  new  found  friends  from  Cheyenne,  but  found  it  de- 
serted. The  day  before  I  had  told  them  of  a  pool  of  water 
about  three  miles  below  our  camp,  that  was  in  easy  reach 
of  our  blacktail  hunting  ground,  and  advised  them  to  move 
camp  to  that  place.  This  had  been  done,  and  on  reaching 
the  pool  I  found  them  already  there  and  the  camp  nearly 
made.  Leaving  the  riding  horse  with  many  sincere  thanks 
for  his  use  I  went  on  toward  our  own  camp,  leading  the 
pack  pony.  That  evening  Charley  and  I  visited  their  camp, 
remaining  until  late  in  the  evening.  I  neglected  to  state  that 
I  did  not  engage  a  team  to  come  in  a  week  for  our  game, 
because  our  new  found  friends  had  volunteered  to  haul  the 
game  for  us. 

While  we  were  at  their  camp  that  evening  I  happened 
to  mention  that  while  in  Glenrock  I  had  talked  with  some 
men  who  had  been  prospecting  for  oil  on  the  head  waters 
of  some  of  the  branches  of  Powder  river,  about  fifty  miles 
northwest  of  Glenrock,  who  reported  having  seen  only  a 
week  before  a  large  band  of  elk,  and  that  blacktail  deer  were 
also  very  abundant  in  that  country.  This  report  set  our 
Cheyenne  friends  wild.  They  would  pull  out  the  next  day, 
go  back  to  Glenrock,  get  supplies  and  strike  for  the  Powder 
river  country;  and  they  wanted  us  to  go  with  them.  They 
offered  to  carry  our  luggage,  and  haul  our  game,  if  we 
would  go,  provided  we  would  pay  half  the  expense  for  horse 
feed  and  give  them  half  the  game  we  should  kill.  The  plan 
suited  us. 

Next  morning  we  pulled  out  for  Glenrock,  got  the  sup- 
plies needed  and  by  noon  of  the  following  day  were  ready 
to  start  out  for  our  new  hunting  grounds.  Charley  and  I 
added  to  our  stock  of  provisions  a  supply  of  flour  and  bak- 
ing powder  for  use  in  case  the  biscuit  gave  out.  The  owner 
of  the  horses  offered  to  let  me  have  the  use  of  the  horse 


IGO  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

he  had  loaned  to  me  without  charge  if  I  would  have  him 
shod  all  around.  I  was  only  too  glad  to  accept  the  offer. 
He  was  a  good  riding  horse,  trusty  and  gentle,  not  afraid 
of  a  gun,  and  he  did  excellent  service. 

While  in  Glenrock  I  became  acquainted  with  the  county 
surveyor.  He  had  taken  oil  claims  in  the  very  country  to 
which  we  were  going,  and  he  gave  me  instructions  how  to 
reach  the  place  by  the  best  route,  there  being  no  track  most 
of  the  way.  I  will  not  repeat  his  directions  in  full,  only  we 
were  to  run  by  the  compass  most  of  the  way  after  crossing 
the  North  Platte,  until  we  reached  Sand  springs  where  we 
would  strike  the  road  from  Casper  to  Buffalo,  then  this 
road  was  to  be  followed  until  we  arrived  at  a  desirable  hunt- 
ing ground.  Following  his  directions  we  got  through  easily 
after  about  two  days'  travel. 

One  very  interesting  thing  occurred  on  this  trip — at 
least  interesting  to  me.  Soon  after  crossing  the  North  Platte 
we  came  upon  the  old  Oregon  Trail  that  follows  up,  along 
that  side  of  the  river.  For  a  mile  or  two  we  traveled  in, 
or  by  the  side  of  the  old  trail  and  it  looked  and  seemed  so 
natural  that  I  was  carried  back  to  the  summer  of  1852  and 
was  again  in  mind,  on  the  overland  journey,  only  then  I  was 
driving  four  yoke  of  cattle — now  I  was  on  horseback.  At 
one  place  we  crossed  three  or  four  steep  ravines,  where  I 
distinctly  remembered  that  the  crossing  was  so  bad  that  it 
took  both  my  cousin  and  myself  to  manage  the  team,  one 
of  us  at  the  heads  of  the  lead  cattle,  and  the  other  to  mind 
the  wheel  oxen  and  manage  the  brake. 

We  made  a  good  camp  on  Salt  creek,  a  tributary  to 
Powder  river.  The  camp  was  protected  from  the  wind  on 
all  sides  either  by  steep  banks  or  by  thickets  of  willows. 
The  water  in  the  little  creek  was  good  for  drinking,  it  being 
the  only  good  water  we  found  in  that  neighborhood,  all  the 
other  streams  being  saline  or  alkaline  water  or  both. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  161 

We  now  had  five  men  in  camp;  the  newcomers  being 
known  as  The  Old  Man,  George  and  Charley.  The  Old 
Man  owned  the  outfit  of  wagon,  tent  and  teams.  I  have  for- 
gotten his  name  if  indeed  I  ever  heard  it.  He  was  a  rail- 
road builder  and  having  worked  all  summer  on  a  grading 
contract  was  now  on  a  hunting  trip  for  fun,  and  to  get  a 
supply  of  meat  for  winter.  He  tended  the  camp,  and  hunt- 
ed rabbits  with  a  22  rifle,  but  never  killed  anything.  George 
and  Charley  were  mechanics — were  both  single  men,  and 
were  out  for  sport.  They  both  carried  new,  magazine  Win- 
chester rifles,  calibre  40-82.  Charley  was  German,  his  real 
name  being  Carl,  and  hereafter  will  be  known  as  Carl  in  this 
narrative  to  prevent  confusion  of  names.  Neither  George 
nor  Carl  knew  anything  about  hunting,  but  Carl  was  a 
splendid  shot  with  a  rifle.  At  a  distance  of  twenty  paces 
he  would  hit  a  half  gallon  tin  can  at  nearly  every  shot  when 
thrown  into  the  air.  He  did  not  understand  the  habits  of 
game,  nor  know  where  to  find  it  when  hunting,  but  he  was 
quite  successful  as  a  hunter  from  the  fact  that  he  was  an 
expert  marksman.  They  were  not  the  most  agreeable  peo- 
ple to  camp  out  with,  their  conversation  being  on  the  low 
order,  and  their  stories  and  jokes  rough  to  say  the  least. 
However,  they  were  friendly  and  willing  to  accommodate 
and  we  got  along  first  rate. 

The  country  over  which  we  were  to  hunt  was  much  the 
same  as  that  already  described  around  our  camps  at  the  head 
of  Sand  creek,  only  here,  about  two  miles  east  of  the  camp 
was  a  high,  broken  ridge — a  divide  between  two  water 
courses,  that  assumed  the  proportions  of  a  mountain  range, 
and  contained  a  good  deal  of  pine  and  cedar  timber,  some 
of  the  pine  trees  being  of  quite  large  size.  From  any  point 
on  the  summit  of  this  ridge,  where  the  view  was  not  ob- 
structed by  timber,  the  Big  Horn  mountains  could  plainly 
be  seen  to  the  northwest,  and  the  valley  of  Salt  Fork  on 
which  we  were  camped  could  be  traced  to  its  junction  with 


162  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  main  Powder  river  valley,  as  well  as  a  portion  of  the 
main  valley  itself.  In  the  same  direction  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  high  buttes  containing  layers  of  colored  rocks,  their 
sides  being  streaked  with  alternate  layers  of  pink,  yellow 
and  green. 

I  did  a  good  deal  of  exploring  as  well  as  of  hunting, 
and  derived  at  least  as  much  pleasure  from  this  source  as 
from  hunting  for  game.  There  were  many  things  of  in- 
terest. Near  our  camp  at  the  head  of  Sand  creek  there  were 
many  veins  of  coal  to  be  seen  along  the  sides  of  the  dry 
water  courses,  varying  in  thickness  from  a  few  inches  to 
five  feet.  There  was  one  hill  of  iron  ore — a  piece  chipped 
from  the  rock  would  attract  the  needle  of  the  compass  the 
same  as  a  magnet.  There  were  many  birds,  especially  in  the 
vicinity  of  our  Salt  creek  camp,  the  most  conspicuous  of 
which  were  magpies,  whisky  jacks  or  Canada  jays,  and 
flocks  of  the  beautiful  wax  wings  or  cedar  birds.  The  mag- 
pies and  whisky  jacks  were  annoying;  they  would  pick  at 
the  venison  when  left  out  for  a  time  before  bringing  it  to 
camp,  mutilating  the  hams  and  devouring  all  they  could  eat. 
The  whisky  jacks  were  about  the  camp  at  all  times  during 
the  day,  becoming  very  tame  and  picking  up  any  scraps 
thrown  out  from  the  table.  One  time  some  years  after  this 
trip,  while  hunting  in  the  Black  Hills,  someone  in  camp  had 
a  bottle  of  whisky,  carried  probably  for  snake  bites,  although 
it  was  November  and  we  were  camped  high  up  in  the  moun- 
tains above  the  range  of  rattlesnakes.  Guy  Campbell  who 
was  along  soaked  some  bread  in  whisky  and  placing  it  in 
reach  of  the  whisky  jacks  awaited  the  result.  They  de- 
voured the  bread  eagerly,  and  two  of  them  getting  an  over- 
dose were  able  to  fly  with  difficulty,  and  could  scarcely  sit 
upon  a  limb,  one  of  them  actually  turning  a  sommersault 
and  hanging  for  a  time  head  downward. 

There  were  range  cattle  scattered  about  in  little  bands 
all  over  the  country,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  our  Salt  creek 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  163 

camp  there  was  a  drove  of  mares  and  colts,  a  hundred  or 
more  in  number  led  by  an  old  mare  with  a  bell.  The  cattle 
were  almost  as  wild  as  the  deer,  and  would  run  off  on  the 
approach  of  anyone  on  foot.  There  were  cattle  trails  lead- 
ing to  the  watering  places  the  same  as  the  buffalo  trails  of 
the  early  days,  only  they  were  not  so  deeply  worn.  No 
human  habitations  were  met  with  anywhere,  there  being 
no  settlers,  and  the  cattle  ranches  were  few  and  widely  scat- 
tered. 

The  next  morning  after  the  camp  had  been  made  on 
Salt  creek,  we  all  started  out  for  a  hunt  except  the  Old  Man, 
who  kept  the  camp.  I  hunted  faithfully  and  carefully  all 
day,  and  was  the  last  one  in  at  night,  not  reaching  camp 
until  it  was  dusk.  I  saw  nothing  bigger  than  a  magpie,  al- 
though there  were  plenty  of  game  signs ;  all  the  others  had 
seen  deer  and  Carl  had  killed  two,  one  big  one  and  one  small 
one.  Charley  was  a  good  cook  and  supper  was  ready,  con- 
sisting of  pancakes,  broiled  venison  and  tea,  and  a  little 
fried  bacon  to  furnish  gravy  for  the  pancakes.  The  supper 
was  fine  and  the  evening  was  pleasantly  spent,  everybody 
seeming  elated  over  the  prospects  except  myself.  I  felt  that 
my  reputation  was  at  stake,  and  was  thinking  over  plans  to 
redeem  it  the  next  day. 

The  next  morning  I  was  up  and  had  cooked  and  eaten 
breakfast  before  daylight  while  the  others  were  asleep.  Just 
as  the  light  began  to  appear  in  the  east  and  as  the  others 
were  beginning  to  get  out,  I  started  out  for  the  day's  hunt, 
and  was  a  mile  away  from  camp  before  it  was  light  enough 
to  see  to  shoot.  Soon  there  began  to  be  fresh  signs  of  elk, 
and  going  very  slowly  and  carefully,  for  the  elk  has  a  keen 
nose  and  is  sharp  of  sight,  I  found  a  herd  of  about  forty 
when  not  more  than  two  miles  from  camp.  They  were 
mostly  lying  down,  and  in  a  place  where  it  was  not  very 
difficult  to  approach  them,  although  for  some  distance  I  had 
to  crawl  upon  my  stomach,  and  at  other  places  go  in  a  stoop- 


164  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ing  posture  or  on  my  hands  and  knees.  From  my  position 
when  ready  to  shoot  only  three  or  four  could  be  seen,  and 
from  these  I  picked  out  the  largest  cow  elk  and  fired,  the 
bullet  striking  fair  and  making  a  *'thud"  that  could  be 
plainly  heard.  The  herd  started  to  run,  and  soon  bunched 
as  they  will  nearly  always  do,  when  I  got  in  a  second  shot 
and  hit  another  cow  elk.  By  this  time  they  were  filing  off 
at  a  lope,  and  selecting  a  big  buck  I  fired  at  and  wounded 
him,  but  not  so  but  he  could  keep  up  with  the  herd.  The 
first  elk  ran  into  a  cedar  thicket  and  lay  down.  Going  up 
within  thirty  steps  I  gave  her  a  shot  in  the  head.  The  two 
had  fallen  not  more  than  two  hundred  steps  apart  and  be- 
fore noon  I  had  them  both  dressed,  and  some  snow  thrown 
into  the  cavity  of  the  body  to  cool  them  off  quickly,  the  day 
being  so  warm  that  blow  flies  were  beginning  to  come 
around. 

It  was  about  a  mile  further  to  the  top  of  a  high  ridge 
where  I  stopped  and  ate  luncheon,  watching  in  the  meantime 
for  game,  being  screened  from  sight  by  some  clumps  of 
brush.  While  eating  I  saw  five  deer  about  half  a  mile  off 
— a  big  buck  by  himself  and  a  buck,  doe  and  two  fawns  in 
another  place.  After  luncheon  I  went  for  the  buck  first, 
and  getting  within  long  range  gave  him  a  shot,  but  it  was 
not  immediately  fatal.  He  was  shot  through  the  body,  but 
bled  very  little  on  the  outside.  I  followed  him  for  about  a 
mile,  but  the  tracking  was  so  slow,  I  gave  it  up  and  went 
back  to  try  and  find  the  other  four  deer.  They  had  moved 
about  a  half  mile,  but  were  easily  found,  and  I  got  them  all, 
it  taking  one  shot  for  the  old  doe,  one  for  one  of  the  fawns 
and  two  each  for  the  buck  and  the  other  fawn.  It  was  dark 
when  I  got  into  camp,  but  it  was  the  greatest  day's  hunt  I 
had  ever  had.  I  had  killed  two  elk  and  four  deer  and  had 
used  eleven  cartridges.  Carl  had  come  across  the  same  herd 
of  elk  later  in  the  day,  and  had  brought  down  one  of  the 
bucks.     These   were   the   first   elk   he   had    ever   seen   and 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  165 

he  felt  greatly  elated  as  well  he  might.  Carl  and  George  on 
going  with  pack  horses  for  the  two  deer  that  Carl  had  killed 
the  day  before  could  only  find  the  large  deer.  The  two  had 
fallen  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart,  and  some  animal,  pro- 
bably a  grizzly,  had  found  and  carried  off  the  small  deer. 

In  a  few  days,  having  a  full  load  of  game  we  went  back 
to  Glenrock.  During  the  hunt,  I  had  killed  in  all  twelve 
deer,  two  elk  and  three  antelope,  not  counting  any  that  were 
wounded  and  lost.  I  have  never  made  a  more  successful 
hunt,  either  before  or  since  that  time.  At  Glenrock,  we  ar- 
ranged with  Mr.  Baker  to  ship  our  game  to  Oakdale  with 
the  first  load  of  coal  billed  for  that  place.  While  waiting  at 
Glenrock  for  the  car  that  was  to  carry  the  game,  Charley 
borrowed  a  rifle,  and  going  into  the  country  south  of  Glen- 
rock, he  killed  two  antelope  at  one  shot.  He  probably  has 
not  to  this  day  ceased  to  regret  that  he  did  not  take  a  rifle 
for  the  trip. 

We  left  a  liberal  supply  of  venison  with  our  friends  at 
Glenrock,  and  bidding  good  bye,  started  for  home  on  the 
next  train  that  carried  passengers,  after  having  shipped  the 
game.  The  game  came  through  safely  to  Mr.  Truesdale, 
who  was  then  the  coal  dealer  at  Oakdale.  Charley  and  I 
divided  with  our  neighbors,  sending  a  mess  of  venison  to 
forty-two  families  in  Oakdale  and  vicinity.  Our  friend,  Ed. 
Baker  at  Glenrock,  did  not  care  for  any  venison  himself,  as 
he  was  boarding  at  the  restaurant,  but  at  his  request,  I  sent 
by  express  the  hind  quarters  of  a  deer  to  his  relatives  in 
Ohio,  and  later  received  from  his  niece  a  letter  of  acknowl- 
edgement.    We  were  gone  from  home  about  four  weeks. 


166  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Black  Hills. 

What  we  now  call  the  Black  Hills  consists  of  an  extens- 
ive tract  of  mountainous  country  lying  chiefly  in  western 
South  Dakota,  but  extending  also  from  twenty  to  thirty  miles 
into  eastern  Wyoming.  This  tract  is  enclosed,  excepting  on 
the  west,  by  the  north  and  south  forks  of  Cheyenne  river, 
the  north  fork  being  known  also  as  the  Belle  Fourche  river. 
It  is  a  broad  tract,  covering  four  entire  counties  in  South 
Dakota,  namely,  Lawrence,  Meade,  Pennington  and  Custer, 
and  also  a  portion  of  the  northern  part  of  Fall  River  county, 
besides  a  tract  of  considerable  size  in  Wyoming.  They  ex- 
tend a  hundred  miles  from  southeast  to  northwest,  and  in  the 
broadest  part  are  eighty  miles  wide.  A  hundred  years  ago, 
what  we  now  call  the  Black  Hills  was  an  unknown  region — 
what  was  then  called  Black  Hills,  or  sometimes  Black  Moun- 
tains, lies  in  central  Wyoming,  south  of  the  North  Platte 
river,  and  is  now  known  as  the  Laramie  Mountains.  The 
Black  Hills  of  South  Dakota  almost  touch  our  own  state  of 
Nebraska ;  in  fact  our  own  mountainous  country  in  western 
and  northwestern  Nebraska,  known  as  Pine  Ridge  and  the 
Wild  Cat  Range,  is  but  a  continuation  on  a  smaller  scale  of 
the  real  Black  Hills  country  of  South  Dakota. 

The  Black  Hills  were  so  named,  so  we  are  told  in  the 
old  books  describing  the  early  explorations  in  the  western 
country,  on  account  of  their  dark  color,  owing  to  the  forest 
growth  of  evergreen  timber  covering  their  sides ;  this  timber, 
consisting  of  pine,  spruce  and  cedar.  This  name  is  appro- 
priate because  it  is  descriptive  in  so  far  as  it  applies  to  color, 
but  why  they  were  called  hills  instead  of  mountains  is  not  so 
clear.     In  some  of  the  old  books,  and  especially  Irving's 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  167 

Bonneville,  the  word  hills  seldom,  if  ever,  occurs  in  this  con- 
nection— they  are  spoken  of  as  the  Black  Mountains.  They 
are  really  a  superb  aggregation  of  mountain  ridges  and 
peaks,  rivaling  in  height  the  White  Mountains  of  New 
Hampshire  and  the  Alleghanies  of  western  North  Carolina, 
and  greatly  exceeding  in  height  the  entire  Appalachian  chain 
as  a  whole.  The  highest  points  are  over  7000  feet  in  height, 
and  a  great  number  of  peaks  and  ridges  are  more  than  6000 
feet  high.  However,  the  name  Black  Hills  has  caught,  and 
will  hold  fast,  and,  while  not  exactly  appropriate,  it  has  be- 
come endeared  in  the  memories  of  thousands  of  those  who 
live  within  or  near  this  mountainous  region,  and  of  those 
who  have  visited  it  for  the  purpose  of  hunting,  fishing  and 
camping.  There  are  scores  upon  scores  of  prominent  peaks, 
some  of  the  most  noted  being  Harney's  peak,  Buckhorn 
mountain,  Terry's  peak,  Custer's  peak.  Bear  Lodge,  Inyan 
Kara,  Bear  Butte,  Warren's  peak.  Round  Top,  and  very 
many  others. 

On  the  southwestern  side  there  is  a  detached  unbroken 
ridge  sixty  miles  long,  and  separated  from  the  main  moun- 
tain chain  by  a  series  of  narrow  flats  and  valleys,  and  run- 
ning from  Edgemont  in  South  Dakota  almost  to  Newcastle, 
Wyoming,  that  has  been  named  Elk  Mountain.  It  is  cover- 
ed with  timber  from  bottom  to  top,  the  mountain,  in  some 
places,  running  up  to  a  narrow,  sharp  ridge,  and  in  other 
places  widening  out  at  the  top  to  level  or  undulating  tracts 
half  a  mile  or  more  in  width.  In  places  the  ascent  is,  at 
least  part  of  the  way,  quite  easy  and  gradual,  in  others  steep 
and  difficult  to  climb.  On  this  mountain  a  good  deal  of 
lumbering  has  been  done  in  the  past,  and  most  of  the  large 
timber  has  been  cut  off. 

Another  prominent  ridge  is  called  the  Limestone.  The 
Limestone  runs  from  northwest  to  southeast  through  a  large 
portion  of  the  mountainous  tract,  and  is  the  backbone  of  the 


168  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

system,  its  greatest  height  being  7100  feet,  which,  however, 
is  not  quite  as  high,  so  I  have  been  informed,  as  some  of  the 
outlying  peaks.  From  both  sides  of  the  Limestone  slopes, 
there  are  hundreds  of  springs  of  cold  pure  water  that 
break  out  from  among  the  rocks,  and  start  on  their  journey 
in  the  form  of  little  rivulets  to  join  the  larger  streams  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain.  Some  of  these  springs,  however,  and 
indeed  a  good  many  of  them,  flow  only  a  short  distance,  a 
half  mile  or  so,  and  sink  into  the  ground,  probably  to  again 
break  out  lower  down  the  mountain  slope. 

This  whole  mass  of  mountains,  a  hundred  or  more  miles 
long,  and  from  forty  to  eighty  miles  in  width,  has  for  its 
base  from  which  it  rises,  an  elevated  plateau  or  table-land. 
This  table-land  is  of  itself  from  3200  to  4000  feet  high.  Be- 
cause this  is  spoken  of  as  a  table-land  or  plateau,  do  not 
conculde  that  it  is  one  great  broad  level  tract.  It  is  far 
from  being  level.  In  places  it  is  level,  or  nearly  so,  for  miles, 
but  even  then  it  is  cut  here  and  there  by  streams  or  dry  can- 
yons, these  often  having  rough,  rocky  and  steep  sides,  and  in 
other  places  traversed  by  ridges  of  moderate  hills,  and  in 
some  places  there  may  be  found  a  single  butte  or  maybe  a 
group  of  buttes  running  up  with  steep  rocky  slopes  to  the 
height  of  two  or  three  hundred  feet  or  more.  Still  the 
whole  country,  outside  of  the  mountains  is  spoken  of  as  a 
plateau  or  table-land,  even  though  it  has,  in  general,  a  very 
uneven  surface. 

The  Black  Hills  holds  two  noted  summer  resorts — Hot 
Springs  in  the  southeastern  part,  and  Spearfish  canyon  in 
the  northern  part.  Long  before  the  white  people  ever  heard 
of  the  Hot  Springs  and  the  healing  virtues  of  its  waters,  the 
Indians  made  use  of  it  as  medicine  waters.  The  Sioux  or 
Dakota  Indians  called  the  springs  Minne-Katah,  or  water 
warm.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  Dakota  language  that  the 
qualifying  adjective  always  follows  the  noun  which  it  modi- 
fies ;  as  Weah-washtay,  woman  good ;  Minne-sela,  water  red ; 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  169 

Kongra-tongra,  crow  big.  However,  those  people  who  visit 
the  Hot  Springs  of  South  Dakota  for  their  health,  or  who 
take  a  trip  to  Wind  Cave,  or  who  camp  for  a  week  or  two 
in  Spearfish  Canyon  for  an  outing,  see  little  of  the  Black 
Hills  and  know  little  about  them  on  their  return.  If  you 
would  really  know  the  Black  Hills,  leave  the  beaten  trails — 
do  not  go  where  everyone  else  goes,  but  go  where  no  one  else 
goes,  or,  at  any  rate,  where  few  others  go.  By  so  doing  you 
will  learn  to  know  the  Black  Hills. 

Although  the  Black  Hills  are  so  nearly  completely  cov- 
ered with  a  growth  of  evergreen  timber  as  to  give  them, 
when  seen  at  a  distance,  a  deep  dark  color,  there  is  yet  much 
of  the  surface  that  is  treeless.  In  the  lower  parts  of  the 
hills  the  timber  is  confined  chiefly  to  the  canyons,  the  side 
ravines  and  pockets  in  the  hillsides,  and  the  north  slopes — ■ 
the  level  tracts  and  the  south  slopes  being  nearly  treeless. 
As  higher  elevations  are  reached  the  timber  becomes  denser 
and  heavier,  and  thickets  of  quaking  aspen  and  second- 
growth  groves  of  pine  and  spruce  appear,  making  dense 
thickets  in  many  places.  At  an  elevation  of  5000  to  6000 
feet  the  surface  is  mostly  covered  with  timber,  but  even  then 
it  is  greatly  diversified  by  many  open  treeless  tracts  called 
parks,  covered  only  with  grass  and  containing  anywhere 
from  an  acre  or  two  up  to  hundreds  of  acres  of  open  country. 
These  parklike  tracts,  surrounded  with  dense  forest  are  ex- 
tremely attractive.  Sometimes  these  parks  take  the  form 
of  open  glades,  a  quarter  or  a  half  mile  long,  and  only  a  few 
rods  wide,  covered  with  densely  growing  grass  a  foot  or  so 
high,  with  an  abundant  variety  of  bright  colored  flowers. 

Do  not  conclude  that  the  Black  Hills  country  is  all  of  it 
made  up  of  rough,  rocky  ragged  hills  and  canyons — some 
of  it  is,  much  of  it  in  fact,  but  there  are  hundreds  of  tracts 
of  smooth,  undulating,  or  sloping  land,  varying  from  a  few 
acres  to  hundreds  of  acres  in  a  tract.  There  are  wagon 
trails  leading  through  in  many  places,  these,  of  course,  hold- 


170  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ing  to  the  easiest  grades.  One  can  travel  through  the  moun- 
tains from  east  to  west,  or  from  south  to  north  in  some  places 
with  a  team,or  can  go  in  most  places  on  horseback,  or  any- 
where he  pleases  on  foot.  Altogether  I  consider  it  about 
the  most  delightful  camping  grounds  I  have  ever  visited. 
Firewood  and  shelter  for  the  camp,  grass  for  the  horses,  and 
good  water  can  be  found  everywhere  after  the  mountains 
are  once  entered.  Some  of  the  streams  of  the  foothills,  and 
also  a  little  way  up  in  the  mountains  are  impregnated  with 
gypsum  or  other  minerals,  making  the  water  bad,  but  once 
in  the  mountains  the  water  is  all  pure  and  fine.  Nearly  or 
quite  all  the  streams  are  stocked  with  trout.  These  trout 
were  planted  there  within  the  last  twenty  years.  Originally, 
it  is  claimed,  that  there  were  no  trout  on  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  Rocky  mountains,  but  they  were  abundant  on  the 
western  side.  At  any  rate,  this  is  in  accordance  with  the 
opinions  of  the  first  explorers,  and  of  the  early  writers.  I 
also  know  for  myself  that  when  I  followed  the  Overland 
Trail  across  the  plains  in  1852,  the  fishermen  in  our  party 
caught  no  trout  in  the  Sweet  Water,  nor  in  any  other 
branches  of  the  Platte,  but  as  soon  as  the  creeks  flowing  into 
Green  and  Snake  rivers  were  reached  they  got  trout  in 
plenty. 

The  Black  Hills  region  is  a  beautiful,  romantic,  attrac- 
tive place — we  ought  to  get  better  acquainted  with  it. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  171 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Two  Black  Hills  Bear  Stories. 

No.  1. 

All  of  the  stories  written  thus  far  are  recollections  of  my 
own  past  experiences,  and  are  true  to  the  letter  in  every  re- 
spect— this  story,  with  the  one  to  follow,  will  be  told  as  told 
to  me  by  others  who  took  part  in  the  things  that  occurred 
but  will,  I  believe,  be  true  and  faithful  descriptions  of  the 
events  related. 

This  is  to  be  a  bear  story.  I  cannot  tell  a  bear  story 
from  my  own  knowledge  because  it  never  has  been  my  good 
fortune  to  have  had  any  experience  in  hunting  bears.  Hence 
it  is  necessary  to  give  this  story  at  second  hand,  or  leave  it 
out  altogether. 

Along  about  1882,  or  may  be,  somewhat  later,  there  was 
a  man  living  in  the  vicinity  of  Tilden  by  the  name  of  William 
Smith.  Many  of  the  Tilden  people  will  no  doubt  remem- 
ber him — he  run  a  threshing  machine  for  two  or  three  years 
for  Allen  Hopkins,  and  while  doing  threshing  for  the  farm- 
ers I  became  acquainted  with  him.  Later  he  moved  to  the 
Black  Hills,  and  squatted  on  a  tract  of  land  at  the  eastern 
foot  of  Elk  mountain  in  extreme  western  South  Dakota.  I 
have  passed  in  sight  of  his  place  several  times  while  on  hunt- 
ing trips  to  the  Hills,  and  once  made  him  a  neighborly  call, 
for  old  acquaintance  sake,  and  by  invitation  stayed  to  dinner. 
He  told  me  all  about  the  bear  hunt  that  will  be  here  related, 
and  showed  me  the  tanned  skins  of  the  three  bears  that  were 
killed  upon  that  occasion.  I  did  not  take  down  notes  of  our 
conversation  at  the  time,  as  I  then  had  no  idea  of  writing 
out  the  story.     However,  about  a  year  ago  I  thought  of  put- 


172  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ting  an  account  of  it  on  paper,  and  in  order  to  refresh  my 
memory  I  called  on  D.  V.  Coe,  who  now  lives  in  Neligh,  and 
got  the  main  facts  from  him,  jotting  down  notes  of  our  talk 
at  the  time.  Mr.  Coe  was  a  near  neighbor  of  Mr.  Smith  in 
the  Black  Hills  country  and  knew  all  about  the  facts  at  the 
time  they  occurred. 

In  the  fall  of  1890  a  man  by  the  name  of  Leavitt,  who  I 
think  was  boarding  at  Smith's  ranch,  while  hunting  came 
across  what  seemed  to  be  a  bear's  den.  It  was  late  in  the 
season,  and  winter  was  close  at  hand,  it  being  about  the  time 
of  year  for  the  bears  to  den  up  for  the  winter.  It  is  the 
habit  of  the  bears  of  the  United  States,  both  the  grizzly  and 
the  black  kind,  to  go  into  winter  quarters  on  the  approach  of 
very  cold  weather,  where  they  hibernate,  as  it  is  called,  until 
spring.  They  become  very  fat  during  the  fall  months,  and 
at  the  proper  time  going  into  their  winter  dens,  they  sleep 
through  the  cold  winter,  eating  nothing  during  the  time.  In 
the  spring  they  come  out  poor  and  ravenously  hungry.  This, 
however,  is  not  the  habit  of  the  white  bears  of  the  Arctic 
regions — they  do  not  hibernate,  but  roam  abroad  the  whole 
of  the  Arctic  winter.  These  explanations  are  made  for  the 
younger  readers,  who  are  not  supposed  to  be  as  well  posted 
in  these  matters  as  the  older  ones. 

Mr.  Leavitt  looked  the  ground  over  until  satisfied  that 
it  was  really  a  den  occupied  by  two  or  more  bears.  Return- 
ing to  the  ranch  without  disturbing  the  bears,  if  indeed  they 
were  at  home,  at  the  time,  and  reporting  to  Mr.  Smith,  they 
determined  to  go  after  them  without  delay. 

The  den  was  in  a  ledge  of  rocks  in  Hell's  canyon,  up  in 
the  rough  mountains  ten  or  twelve  miles  northeast  of  Smidi's 
place.  Several  years  afterwards  I  made  quite  a  careful 
survey  of  the  place,  going  several  miles  out  of  my  way  to 
see  a  real  bear's  den. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  173 

Hell's  Canyon — I  do  not  know  why  so  named,  unless 
it  is  because  it  is  the  deepest,  roughest,  biggest  canyon  in  all 
that  part  of  the  Hills — is  about  twenty-five  miles  long  with 
very  high,  steep,  shelving  sides,  with  perpendicular  walls  in 
many  places,  the  bottom  in  some  places  filled  with  a  tangle 
of  brush,  and  piles  of  big  rocks  that  have  rolled  down  from 
the  steep  rocky  hillsides.  The  adjacent  mountain  sides  are 
more  or  less  thickly  covered  with  evergreen  timber.  If  the 
roughest  spot  possible  is  a  good  place  for  a  bear's  den  then 
Hell's  Canyon  ought  to  furnish  any  number  of  them. 

In  this  case  the  den  itself  was  formed  by  a  rock  and 
earth  slide  from  the  steep  hillside  above  to  a  wide  ledge  of 
flat  rocks  which  had  arrested  the  slide  so  that  it  was  piled 
up  in  such  way  as  to  form  a  hollow  inside  the  rocks  of  sev- 
eral feet  in  extent  with  an  opening  out  to  the  rock  ledge, 
thus  forming  a  den  or  cave,  protected  from  the  wind  and 
storms  of  winter.  In  front  of  the  opening  or  entrance  to 
the  den  there  was,  first,  a  flat,  level  surface  of  rock  for  eight 
or  ten  feet,  then  a  perpendicular  fall  of  perhaps  eight  feet, 
and  next  a  very  steep  slope  of  fifty  to  seventy-five  feet  to  the 
bottom  of  the  canyon. 

When  Smith  and  Leavitt  went  after  the  bears,  they 
got  two  other  men  to  go  with  them — Smith  and  the  two 
men  being  armed  with  repeating  rifles,  Leavitt  having  only 
a  large  caliber  revolver.  Arriving  at  the  den  the  first  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  find  whether  or  not  the  bears  were  at  home. 
It  was  arranged  that  Leavitt  should  carefully  approach  to 
the  front  of  the  den  and  find  out  if  he  could  whether  the 
bears  were  inside,  but  it  was  not  intended  that  they  should  be 
disturbed  until  he  had  time  to  withdraw  to  a  safe  distance. 
Leavitt  made  the  reconnoissance  all  right,  and  finding  the 
bears  at  home,  instead  of  quickly  retiring  he  shouted,  "Come 
on  boys,  they  are  here."  The  bears  were  not  asleep,  but  in- 
stead were  very  much  awake,  and  probably  taking  the  shout 


174  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

for  a  challenge,  the  largest  one  at  once  made  a  charge  at 
Leavitt,  and  before  he  had  any  chance  to  shoot  or  run,  she 
seized  him  by  the  shoulder,  and  together  they  fell  over  the 
ledge  and  then  rolled  for  fifty  or  more  feet  down  the  steep 
incline  to  the  bottom.  The  men  had  no  chance  to  fire  at  the 
bear  for  fear  of  hitting  Leavitt.  Smith  ran  or  slid  down 
the  hill  and  as  soon  as  there  was  a  chance,  putting  the  rifle 
close  to  the  bear  while  it  was  biting  away  at  Leavitt,  shot  it 
dead.  There  were  two  other  bears  that  followed  the  first 
one  out,  and  these  started  at  once  to  run  off. 

And  now  a  singular  thing  happened.  As  the  two  bears 
were  running  away  the  one  in  the  lead  was  shot  in  the  body 
— this  did  not  bring  it  down,  but  did  make  it  mad,  and  turn- 
ing about  it  charged  the  other  bear  with  great  fury.  It  is 
said  that  this  is  not  a  very  unusual  thing  for  a  bear  to  do 
when  hit  by  a  bullet  if  in  company  with  other  bears.  The 
two  bears  were  easily  killed.  The  large  bear  that  had  at- 
tacked Leavitt  was  an  old  she  one,  the  other  two  much 
smaller,  and  were  supposed  to  have  been  a  year  old  the  pre- 
vious spring,  as  they  were  much  too  large  for  mere  cubs. 

Leavitt  was  seriously  hurt,  having  been  bitten  hard  and 
badly  clawed  up,  but  no  bones  were  broken.  It  is  a  wonder 
he  was  not  killed  outright.  Probably  the  bear  had  little 
chance  to  do  any  fighting  while  rolling  down  the  hill,  and 
Smith  came  on  in  good  time  to  save  the  man's  life.  It  seems 
incredible  that  a  man  would  be  so  rash  as  to  do  as  Leavitt 
did  in  front  of  a  bear's  den. 

These  bears  were  grizzlies,  the  most  dangerous  animal 
on  the  American  continent,  excepting  only  the  white  bear  of 
the  Arctic  regions,  or  perhaps  also  the  great  bear  of  western 
Alaska  and  of  the  Alaskan  islands,  which  is  a  first  cousin  of 
the  grizzly. 

Some  time  after  the  bear  hunt  described  above,  Mr. 
Smith  with  the  aid  of  his  dog  killed  a  mountain  lion.     These 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  175 

animals  were,  and  probably  now  are  very  plentiful  in  the 
rougher  and  wilder  parts  of  the  Black  Hills.  A  number  of 
times  while  hunting  deer  in  the  Hills  I  have  seen  their  tracks 
in  the  snow  but  never  came  across  any  of  the  animals  them- 
selves, their  hunting  for  game  being  done  almost  wholly  in 
the  night.  Like  other  animals  of  the  cat  kind  they  can  see 
in  the  dark.  I  have  called  the  animal  a  mountain  lion,  al- 
though it  is  in  no  sense  a  lion.  The  animal  goes  under  dif- 
ferent names  in  different  parts  of  the  country.  In  the 
eastern  and  middle  states  it  is  variously  called  panther, 
painter,  catamount  and  cougar — in  Canada  it  is  known  as  the 
cougar — in  New  and  Old  Mexico  and  Arizona  it  is  called 
the  puma,  and  in  the  Pacific,  the  mountain  and  plains  states 
it  is  called  generally  mountain  lion.  There  are  only  three 
species  of  wild  animals  of  the  cat  kind  within  the  borders  of 
the  United  States  proper — the  one  just  named  above — the 
others  being  the  Canada  lynx  and  the  wildcat  or  bob  cat. 

The  mountain  lion  killed  by  Mr.  Smith  was  chased  by 
his  dog,  a  small  courageous  little  house  dog,  into  a  hole  in 
the  rocks.  He  was  driven  from  his  retreat  by  smoke,  and 
shot  by  Mr.  Smith  as  he  came  out. 

No.  2. 

Theodore  Roosevelt  spent  a  number  of  years  as  a  ranch- 
man on  the  Little  Missouri  river  in  western  North  Dakota 
when  that  country  was  very  new  and  wild,  and  while  it  was 
occupied  only  by  cattlemen  and  hunters.  While  living  the 
life  of  a  ranchman,  he  also  did  a  good  deal  of  hunting,  and 
from  his  experiences  as  a  game  hunter  during  that  time  he 
has  written  four  very  interesting  and  instructive  books,  en- 
titled ''Hunting  Trips  of  a  Ranchman,"  "Hunting  Trips  on 
the  Prairie,"  Hunting  the  Grizzly"  and  "The  Wilderness 
Hunter."  These  four  books  are  without  exception  the  best 
hunting  stories  I  have  ever  read.     They  are  far  more  inter- 


176  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

esting  to  me  than  his  "African  Game  Trails,"  probably  from 
the  fact  that  they  treat  of  the  game  found,  and  of  hunting 
done  in  our  own  country. 

Mr.  Roosevelt's  style  as  a  writer  is  very  clear,  concise, 
direct  and  attractive,  which,  of  course,  tends  to  make  his 
books  all  the  more  readable.  Besides  he  sticks  to  the  facts 
and  is  accurate  in  what  he  has  to  say.  If  any  young  friends 
really  want  the  best  hunting  stories  published,  they  should 
get  these  four  volumes,  or,  if  they  cannot  afford  them  all, 
get  the  ''Wilderness  Hunter,"  which,  to  me,  is  the  best  of 
them  all. 

Once  he  made  a  trip  to  the  Black  Hills  which  lie  two  or 
three  hundred  miles  south  of  his  ranch,  and,  although  he  did 
little  or  no  hunting  there,  he  speaks  of  them  in  one  of  his 
books  as  "fairly  swarming  with  game."  He  also  mentions 
one  man.  Col.  Roger  D.  Williams  of  Lexington,  Ky.,  who 
spent  the  entire  winter  of  1875  hunting  in  the  Black  Hills, 
with  his  men,  horses  and  hounds.  His  method  was  to  hunt 
on  horseback,  turning  his  greyhounds  loose  whenever  game 
was  sighted,  and  racing  after  them  with  the  horses.  Ac- 
cording to  the  account  given  they  got  a  great  many  wolves 
and  antelopes.  Probably  they  could  get  few,  if  any,  deer, 
owing  to  the  rough  character  of  the  ground,  and  the  fre- 
quent dense  thickets  where  deer  would  be  found.  I  can 
readily  believe  from  what  I  know  of  the  Black  Hills,  that  no 
place  in  the  United  States  at  that  date,  or  say  up  to  the  year 
1890,  surpassed  the  Black  Hills  region  as  a  game  country. 
On  the  plateau  or  table-land  surrounding  the  Hills  there 
were  thousands  on  thousands  of  antelope-^from  the  rough 
foothills  to  the  high  timbered  tracts  in  the  interior  of  the 
mountains  there  were  thousands  of  black  tail  deer — white  tail 
deer  were  found  everywhere  in  the  timber  and  among  the 
brush  thickets,  at  an  altitude  of  5000  to  6000  feet.  Still  higher 
up  among  the  rough  crags  of  the  summits  of  the  mountains 
there  were  droves  of  mountain  sheep,  while  herds  of  elk 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  177 

roamed  everywhere  throughout  that  region.  Besides  these 
there  were  wolves,  mountain  Hons  and  grizzly  bears,  and  in 
the  timbered  parts  there  were  black  bears.  Not  farther  back 
than  1875,  there  were  also  great  herds  of  buffalo  all  through 
that  country.  Now  it  is  different.  The  buffalo,  the  elk  and 
the  mountain  sheep  have  entirely  disappeared.  There  are  an- 
telope on  the  plains,  but  in  greatly  diminished  numbers — the 
black  and  grizzly  bears  and  mountain  lions  are  confined  to 
the  rough  interior  parts  of  the  mountains,  and  the  big  gray 
wolves  are  very  scarce.  Black  tail  deer  are  still  quite  plen- 
tiful in  the  very  rough  parts  best  suited  to  their  nature,  and 
there  are  still  a  good  many  white  tail  deer  high  up  where 
there  is  much  timber  and  many  thickets  of  brush  that  afford 
them  cover.  Both  kinds  of  deer  will  probably  always  be 
found  in  the  mountains,  and  there  will  still  be  antelope  on 
the  plains,  because  these  are  now  all  protected  by  very  strict 
laws.  The  bears,  mountain  lions  and  wolves  will  finally  be 
killed  off,  and  they  ought  to  be,  because  they  destroy  farm- 
ers' stock  as  well  as  weaker  wild  animals. 

Thus  far  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  bear  story  to 
follow,  but  it  is  written  because  it  is  well  for  us  all  to  know 
of,  and  to  hold  in  mind  the  conditions  that  existed  in  a  large 
tract  of  country  so  very  near  to  us  only  a  single  generation 
ago. 

In  the  fall  of  1891  there  was  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Mason  who  owned  and  run  a  sawmill  in  Weston  county, 
Wyoming,  just  on  the  western  side  of  the  Black  Hills.  His 
mill  was  located  on  the  bank  of  a  stream  called  Beaver  creek, 
and  near  the  saw  mill  was  a  plank  bridge  spanning  the 
stream.  Mr.  Mason  kept  a  yoke  of  oxen  that  were  used  in 
hauling  logs  to  the  mill,  and  when  not  in  use  these  oxen  ran 
at  large  with  some  other  cattle.  There  had  been  some  trou- 
ble from  the  wild  animals  infesting  the  nearby  hills, 
but  as  yet  no  serious  losses.  One  night  Mr.  Mason  was 
awakened  by  the  cattle  running  past,  either  up  or  down  the 


178  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

valley,  but  he  did  not  go  out  to  make  any  investigation.  It 
is  not  easy  for  a  grizzly  bear  to  catch  a  young,  active  steer 
or  heifer  in  a  fair  race — it  could  be  done  by  wolves,  but 
wolves  would  not  be  very  likely  to  come  so  near  the  buildings 
for  that  purpose,  while  a  mountain  lion  would  probably  lie 
concealed  and  spring  upon  its  prey,  taking  it  unawares.  Mr. 
Mason,  thinking  that  probably  the  cattle  could  take  care  of 
themselves,  did  not  go  out  to  look  after  them  until  morning. 
In  the  morning  he  found  one  of  the  oxen  mired  down  in  the 
creek  under  the  bridge.  Three  or  four  bridge  planks  had 
been  torn  up  and  pushed  to  one  side,  and  some  animal,  stand- 
ing on  the  bridge,  had  made  a  meal  off  the  back  of  the  ox, 
literally  eating  him  alive.  The  ox,  though  almost  dead,  was 
still  breathing  when  found.  Of  course,  it  was  a  grizzly  bear, 
as  no  other  wild  animal  had  half  strength  enough  to  tear 
up  the  planks  of  the  bridge,  in  order  to  get  at  the  ox.  The 
ox,  when  chased  in  the  night,  evidently  not  being  able  to  out- 
run the  bear,  had  taken  refuge  under  the  bridge,  and  the 
bear,  by  the  use  of  his  immense  strength,  tore  off  the  bridge 
planks  and,  thus,  easily  getting  at  his  helpless  prey,  partook 
of  his  supper  at  leisure. 

It  was  thought  that  the  bear  would  be  likely  to  return 
the  next  night  for  another  meal,  and  it  was  determined  to  lie 
in  wait  for  him.  Accordingly  Mr.  Mason  sent  for  Sam 
Coe  to  help  him  as  he  watched  for  the  bear  the  next  night. 

Sam  Coe  is  an  Antelope  county  product,  having  been 
raised  to  manhood  in  the  Grecian  Bend  neighborhood,  but 
at  the  time  these  things  happened  he  was  living  with  his 
father's  family  only  a  few  miles  from  Mason's  sawmill.  Sam 
was,  and  still  is,  a  crack  shot  and  an  expert  hunter,  having 
more  than  a  local  reputation  in  that  line  throughout  the 
Black  Hills  country. 

But  the  bear  did  not  come  back,  or  if  he  did,  he  took 
their  scent  and  made  off  without  showing  himself.     The 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  179 

next  night  after  this,  there  was  a  snow,  but  still  the  bear  did 
not  come  back,  and  Mr.  Mason  determined  to  take  a  turn  in 
the  hills  and  see  if  he  could  find  signs  of  him.  He  found 
the  bear,  all  right,  but  he  did  not  live  to  tell  of  it. 

As  Mason  did  not  return  when  expected,  his  wife,  be- 
coming uneasy  about  him,  took  his  track  and  following  it  into 
the  hills  only  a  mile  or  so  from  the  house,  found  his  dead  and 
mangled  body  lying  in  the  snow  by  the  side  of  a  log.  Help 
was  summoned  and  the  body  brought  in  and  cared  for. 

The  rest  of  this  story  is  gathered  from  the  tell-tale 
tracks  in  the  snow  which  gave  a  very  clear  and  concise  ac- 
count of  what  happened. 

Within  a  mile  or  less  of  home  Mr.  Mason  had  come 
upon  the  fresh  tracks  of  the  bear,  and  following  them  into 
a  dense  thicket  of  brush  and  trees,  had  suddenly  come  upon 
the  bear,  which  immediately  charged  him.  Mason  fired  at 
close  range,  giving  the  bear  a  wound  that  would  finally 
have  proved  mortal,  but  which  did  not  hinder  him  from 
making  a  furious  charge.  The  rifle  was  found  in  the  snow 
with  an  empty  shell  jammed  in  the  magazine.  Finding  that 
he  could  not  reload.  Mason  threw  down  the  gun  and  started 
to  climb  a  tree.  When  up  ten  or  twelve  feet  from  the  ground 
the  bear  seized  him  by  one  heel,  pulled  him  to  the  ground 
and  continued  to  bite  and  maul  him  until  he  seemed  to  be 
dead.  The  bear  then  left  his  victim  and  retired  into  the 
brush  some  distance  away  and  lay  down  to  nurse  his  own 
wound.  How  long  Mason  lay  where  the  bear  left  him  is 
not  known,  but  he  did  finally  come  to  himself  again,  and 
started  towards  home.  He  went  a  short  distance,  however, 
when  coming  to  a  log,  he  sat  down  upon  it  to  dress  his 
wounded  heel,  which  was  terribly  lacerated  by  the  bite 
given  by  the  bear  when  pulling  him  down  from  the  tree. 
Mason  took  off  both  his  outside  and  undershirt,  and  putting 
the  outer  shirt  on  again,  tore  up  the  undershirt  into  strips 
and  began  to  do  up  his  heel,  when  he  was  attacked  by  the 


180  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

bear  and  this  time  was  killed.     All  this  was  made  plain  to 
those  who  afterward  investigated  the  matter. 

The  bear  was  too  badly  hurt  to  go  very  far.  He  re- 
treated a  short  distance  into  a  deep  canyon  that  was  filled 
with  a  dense  growth  of  brush,  and  bounded  by  perpendicular 
rock  walls  on  either  side.  The  men  who  followed  him  up 
did  not  venture  into  the  canyon,  but  keeping  up  on  the  rocks 
where  they  could  see  what  was  going  on  below,  they  sent 
in  two  dogs  on  the  track.  He  was  soon  routed  out  of  his 
bed,  but  put  up  a  good  fight,  and  killed  one  of  the  dogs  be- 
fore being  shot  from  above  by  one  of  the  men.  His  skin 
was  mounted  by  a  taxidermist  and  placed  on  exhibition  in 
Newcastle,  Wyoming.  Twice,  when  in  Newcastle,  I  went 
to  see  it.  He  stood  erect  upon  his  hind  feet,  his  fore  paws 
resting  on  a  pole,  the  top  of  his  head  being  about  seven 
feet  from  the  floor.  He  surely  was  a  big  fellow.  He  was 
of  the  variety  of  the  grizzly  bear  known  as  the  silvertip. 
His  weight  I  could  not  exactly  ascertain,  but  it  was  some- 
where between  900  and  1000  pounds. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  181 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Hunting  Stories  and  Habits  of  the  Wild  Animals. 

My  whole  life  from  infancy  to  the  present  time  has 
been  spent  either  on  or  near  the  frontier.  This  country, 
right  here  in  Antelope  county,  which  has  now  been  settled 
forty-seven  years,  is  the  oldest  settled  place  that  I  have  ever 
lived  in.  Although  it  is  still  a  new  country  here,  or  at  least 
is  so  regarded,  it  is  taking  on,  or  rather  has  already  taken 
on  the  appearance,  and  customs,  and  peculiarities  of  an  old 
settled  country.  However,  if  there  is  still  a  frontier  coun- 
try anywhere  in  the  United  States,  which  perhaps  is  ques- 
tionable, we  who  live  here  in  Antelope  county  are  living 
close  neighbor  to  it.  Large  portions  of  the  western  part  of 
Nebraska  are  still  about  as  new  as  any  part  of  the  United 
States  proper,  excepting,  of  course,  desert  and  mountain- 
ous tracts  unfit  for  settlement.  It  is  not  at  all  strange  that 
one  who  has  spent  nearly  the  whole  of  a  long  life  amid  the 
scenes  common  to  the  frontier,  should  look  back  longingly 
to  the  former  days,  after  such  changes  have  taken  place 
about  him  as  to  remove  all  traces  of  those  primitive  sur- 
roundings that  were  once  so  familiar  and  attractive.  Rather 
would  it  be  strange  if  he  did  not  look  back  to  those  times 
and  scenes  of  long  ago  with  a  feeling  of  regret  akin  to  home- 
sickness. 

It  is  probable  that  not  a  few  of  the  pioneers  of  Ante- 
lope county  who  have  been  spared  to  the  present  time,  would 
pull  out  and  go  to  a  new  country  a  thousand  miles  away,  if 
such  a  place  could  be  found  as  rich  in  soil,  and  as  attractive 
in  appearance,  and  in  every  way  as  inviting  as  was  Antelope 
county  in  the  early  days — that  is,  of  course,  if  they  had 
health  and  strength  to  do  so.     The  fascination  of  frontier 


182  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

life  never  entirely  dies  out  when  once  it  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  one's  being.  It  is  this  love  and  longing  for  the  olden 
times  that  is  one  of  the  incentives  to  the  writing  of  these 
articles. 

During  thirty  or  more  years  of  my  frontier  life,  I  hunt- 
ed some,  at  least  every  year — not  that  I  was  a  professional 
hunter,  making  hunting  a  business,  for  I  was  not,  but  be- 
cause at  first  we  needed  the  meat  for  food,  and  later  partly 
for  the  fun  of  it,  and  partly  because  we  had  become  very 
fond  of  fresh  venison,  and  longed  for  it  every  fall  if  we  did 
not  have  it. 

This  story,  unlike  the  most  of  those  that  have  preceded 
it,  will  not  be  an  account  of  a  single  hunting  trip,  but  in- 
stead, will  tell  of  some  of  the  rather  unusual  things  that 
sometimes  befall  a  hunter  or  a  traveler  in  a  wild  unsettled 
country,  and  at  the  same  time  it  will,  to  a  certain  degree, 
show  off  the  habits  of  the  wild  animals  as  seen  in  their  na- 
tive haunts. 

A  very  attractive  way  to  study  the  habits  of  the  deer, 
antelope,  elk  and  other  wild  denizens  of  the  prairie  and  of 
the  woods  is  to  watch  them  unobserved,  either  from  a  dis- 
tance with  a  field  glass,  or  nearby  when  screened  from  their 
sight.  I  have  done  this  many  times — sometimes  when  trac- 
ing the  section  lines  over  the  prairie  with  a  compass ;  some- 
times when  carrying  a  gun,  but  when  game  was  not  needed, 
and  therefore  the  gun  was  not  used,  and  sometimes,  when 
hunting,  I  have  lain  concealel  for  several  minutes  watch- 
ing the  actions  of  the  game  before  taking  a  shot.  Upon  one 
or  two  occasions  I  waited  too  long  before  shooting  and  lost 
the  chance  altogether. 

This  happened  at  one  time  when  I  was  hunting  with 
D.  E.  Beckwith  in  Wheeler  and  Garfield  counties.  We  had 
gone  into  camp  in  the  western  part  of  Wheeler  county  at 
a  place  where  there  were  some  high  sand  hills,  known  as 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  183 

the  Tumbledumps.  One  of  these  hills  was  a  big,  deep  blow- 
out, the  sand  having  been  scooped  out  by  the  wind  on  the 
northwestern  side  to  a  depth  of  twenty  or  more  feet,  and 
in  the  bottom  of  the  cavity  thus  formed,  there  was  always 
a  pool  of  fresh,  clear  water,  excepting  only  in  a  very  dry 
season.  It  was  a  good  camping  place,  there  being  water, 
shelter  from  the  wind,  afforded  by  the  big  hills,  and  plenty 
of  grass  nearby  for  the  horses.  The  only  drawback  was  a 
scarcity  of  fuel  for  the  campfire.  There  was  no  timber  nor 
brush  anywhere  near,  but  there  were  the  dead,  dry  roots  of 
the  red  root  shrub  that  had  been  uncovered  by  the  wind, 
which  made  an  excellent  fire,  but  which  were  not  plentiful 
at  this  camp.  The  horses  having  been  put  out  on  picket 
ropes,  Dan  busied  himself  fixing  up  the  camp  while  I  struck 
out  to  gather  up  an  armful  of  red  roots  for  the  fire.  While 
gathering  the  fuel,  I  noticed  across  the  valley,  a  mile  to  the 
northeast,  a  big  herd  of  elk,  feeding  just  at  the  edge  of  the 
sand  dunes  beyond  the  valley.  They  were  headed  toward 
the  northwest — the  wind  coming  from  that  direction.  Elk 
are  always  very  cautious,  and  travel  either  into  or  across 
the  wind,  and  when  they  stop  feeding  to  lie  down,  they 
choose  a  place  where  the  wind  will  bring  the  scent  of  dan- 
ger from  one  direction,  and  where  they  can  see  an  enemy 
approaching  from  any  other  direction.  When  disturbed  they 
invariably  run  into  the  wind.  We  concluded  it  was  too  late 
to  go  after  them  that  evening.  There  was  no  danger  that 
the  elk  would  get  our  scent  and  leave  during  the  night  un- 
less the  wind  should  change  to  the  south,  which  was  not 
at  all  likely.  We  therefore  felt  pretty  sure  of  getting  an  elk 
or  two  next  day,  and  that  would  have  been  the  result,  if  I 
had  not  become  more  interested  in  studying  the  elk,  than 
in  shooting  them. 

The  next  morning  the  elk  were  still  in  plain  sight 
across  the  valley,  not  having  moved  more  than  half  a  mile 
during  the  night.     We  had  an  early  breakfast   and    were 


184  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ready  to  start  as  soon  as  it  was  light.  Dan  gave  the  elk 
up  to  me,  saying,  **They  are  yours  by  right  of  discovery," 
and  shouldering  his  rifle  started  off  in  an  opposite  direction. 
It  did  not  make  much  difference  at  that  early  day,  and  in 
that  part  of  the  country  where  one  hunted — there  was  game 
to  be  found  almost  every  day,  though  it  could  not  always 
be  brought  down. 

It  was  not  very  difficult  to  approach  the  elk,  but  it  took 
a  long  time,  as  a  distance  of  at  least  three  miles  had  to  be 
traversed  to  reach  them,  although  the  elk  were  not  much, 
if  any,  more  than  a  mile  away  to  the  west  of  north,  they 
still  being  on  the  north  edge  of  an  intervening  valley  about 
a  mile  wide.  First,  I  followed  down  the  valley  to  the  south- 
east about  a  half  mile,  hidden  by  a  low  ridge,  then  crossed 
the  valley  to  the  northeast,  about  a  mile  from  the  elk,  but 
most  of  the  time  in  sight  of  them.  Much  of  the  way  in  the 
valley  the  grass  was  tall  enough  to  partially  screen  one  from 
sight.  At  that  distance,  however,  either  elk  or  deer  do  not 
seem  to  notice  a  man  walking — antelope  would  probably 
have  seen  me  and  would  have  run  down  within  a  quarter  of 
a  mile,  or  so,  to  make  an  investigation.  After  gaining  the 
low  rolls  of  sand  hills  and  knolls  on  the  north  side  of  the 
valley  the  rest  of  the  approach  was  quite  easy.  When  within 
fifty  or  sixty  rods  of  the  game  there  was  an  intervening 
tract  of  low  wet  ground  with  coarse  grass,  crisscrossed  by 
game  trails  and  in  places  covered  with  ice.  This  had  to  be 
crossed  by  crawling  on  hands  and  knees.  The  weather  had 
been  moderate  enough  for  the  ice  to  melt  somewhat,  making 
it  wet  and  sloppy  part  of  the  way.  Before  getting  near 
enough  to  shoot,  my  mittens  were  wet  through  and  my  feet 
and  legs  were  wet  to  the  knees.  However,  similar,  or  even 
worse,  conditions  are  not  uncommon  in  hunting.  One  can- 
not choose  the  place  where  the  game  will  be  found,  and  if 
he  cannot  undergo  some  unpleasant  phases,  such  as  wet  feet, 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  185 

cold  weather,  bad  storms,  ill  luck,  poor  camping  places  and 
the  like,  he  had  better  stay  at  home  and  hunt  rabbits. 

The  elk  were  feeding  very  near  to,  and  on  the  south- 
west side  of  this  partly  swampy  tract.  By  screening  myself 
behind  a  big  bunch  of  grass  I  could  easily  take  in  the  sit- 
uation. They  were  quite  closely  together,  none  were  lying 
down,  most  of  them  were  feeding,  but  several  of  the  smaller 
ones  were  playing  together  like  young  colts.  They  would 
stamp  and  strike  at  each  other,  and  once  two  of  them  reared 
up  on  their  hind  feet,  standing  almost  straight  up,  and  strik- 
ing at  each  other  with  their  fore  feet.  I  became  interested 
and  forgot  to  shoot,  although  two  or  three  times,  picking  out 
a  fine  cow  elk  and  taking  aim,  I  neglected  to  pull  the  trigger. 
They  could  not  possibly  smell  me  as  the  wind  was  in  my 
favor,  but  once  in  a  while  I  got  a  good  strong  smell  of  them. 
A  big  herd  of  elk  can  easily  be  scented  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away  when  the  wind  is  favorable. 

After  watching  them  for  some  time — ten  minutes,  any- 
way, or  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  I  thought  it  about 
time  to  take  a  shot,  and  was  in  the  act  of  trying  to  get  two 
cow  elk  in  range,  so  as  to  bring  down  two  at  once,  if  pos- 
sible, when  all  at  once  they  threw  up  their  heads  and  started 
to  run,  going  directly  northwest  into  the  wind.  I  was  sure 
they  had  neither  seen  nor  winded  me,  and  was  puzzled.  They 
did  not  run  far  before  they  bunched  and  stopped.  They 
were  still  near  enough  for  a  chance  shot,  which,  however, 
I  did  not  care  to  take.  Their  noses  now  all  pointed  south- 
ward and  looking  in  that  direction  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
off  I  saw  Jake  Gier  on  one  knee  in  the  act  of  firing  his  rifle. 
The  shot  only  scared  them,  however,  and  they  were  soon 
out  of  sight  in  the  sand  hills. 

Meeting  with  Jake,  I  found  that  he  and  someone  else 
were  out  on  a  hunt  and  were  camped  about  two  miles  away. 
I  told  Jake  he  could  have  my  interest  in  those  elk — I  would 


186  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

go  back  and  move  camp.  The  experience,  however,  was  on 
the  whole  pleasant  and  profitable.  I  have  never  had  a  bet- 
ter chance  upon  any  occasion  to  study  the  habits  of  a  herd 
of  elk. 

Jake  Gier  may  have  been  a  good  marksman,  I  do  not 
know  as  to  that,  but  he  surely  was  no  hunter  or  he  never 
would  have  tried  to  approach  the  elk  across  an  open  valley 
that  afforded  almost  no  cover  to  shield  him  from  sight. 

That  afternoon  we  moved  camp  and  finally  crossed  the 
Cedar  river  in  Garfield  county,  camping  among  the  willows 
in  the  edge  of  the  sand  hills.  Here  I  had  rather  an  unusual 
experience  hunting  black  tail  deer  which  will  form  the  chief 
subject  of  the  next  chapter. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  187 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Hunting  Stories  and  Habits  of  Wild  Animals — Continued. 

After  losing  my  chances  at  the  elk,  as  related  in  the 
last  chapter,  I  went  straight  back  to  camp,  and  as  soon  as 
Dan  came  in,  we  struck  camp,  loaded  up  and  pulled  out  in 
a  southwest  course  for  Cedar  river,  about  twelve  miles  away. 
We  did  not  stop  to  hunt  at  all  on  the  way — in  fact  this  was 
not  really  a  hunting  trip  as  will  be  hereafter  explained,  but 
we  did  want  to  get  a  few  deer  to  take  back  home  to  give 
our  families  a  first  feed  of  venison  for  the  season. 

As  has  been  explained  in  Chapter  XIV,  only  twice  did 
I  ever  kill  any  game  for  market,  my  hunting  with  those  two 
exceptions  having  been  done  to  get  food  for  the  family,  and 
to  furnish  for  a  few  days  each  year  the  most  exciting  and 
pleasurable  recreation  for  myself.  It  is  proper  also  to  add 
that  for  two  seasons,  1872  and  1873,  while  in  the  employ  of 
the  land  department  of  the  B.  &  M.  R.  R.  Co.,  I  hunted  to 
supply  the  surveyors'  camp  with  venison.  For  this  I  got 
no  extra  pay,  as  I  was  employed  by  the  railroad  company 
at  a  certain  price  per  month  as  surveyor,  and  most  of  the 
game  for  the  camp  was  killed  while  about  my  regular  work. 
A  few  times  however,  when  the  camp  was  short  of  meat  I 
was  delegated  to  take  a  day  or  two  off  for  the  purpose  of 
hunting. 

At  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  George  Clother,  proprietor 
of  the  Clother  House  of  Columbus,  Neb.,  we — that  is,  Mr. 
D.  E.  Beckwith  and  myself — were  intending  later  in  the 
season  to  kill  a  load  of  game  for  the  Columbus  market.  It 
was  too  early  as  yet  in  the  season  to  kill  game  for  market 
since  the  weather  should  be  cold  enough  to  freeze  the  game 
quickly,  and  to  keep  it  frozen  until  offered  for  sale. 


188  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

We  were  now  out  on  a  scouting  trip,  looking  for  the 
best  hunting  grounds,  where  a  few  weeks  later  we  would 
be  likely  to  get  a  big  load  of  game  in  the  shortest  possible 
time.  It  was  the  last  of  October,  or  possibly  the  very  first 
of  November.  There  had  as  yet  been  no  snow  at  all,  and, 
although  the  nights  were  sharp  and  frosty,  the. days  were 
mostly  warm,  as  is  generally  the  way  in  our  Nebraska  cli- 
mate at  that  season  of  the  year.  We  wanted  to  find  a  place 
where  black  tail  deer  were  the  most  plentiful,  and  where 
there  would  likely  be  a  herd  or  two  of  elk — white  tail  deer 
we  knew  would  be  found  everywhere  along  the  streams  and 
level  bottom  lands  where  there  were  willow  thickets  and 
big  grass.  We  therefore  spent  most  of  the  time  going  from 
place  to  place,  stopping  generally  only  a  single  night  at  one 
camping  ground. 

Not  liking  the  camping  place  on  the  northeast  side  of 
the  Cedar,  the  stream  was  forded,  and  following  up  along 
the  southwest  side  several  miles  a  good  camp  was  made 
among  the  willows  on  a  little  tributary  stream.  We  were 
now  camped  well  up  toward  the  head  of  Cedar  river  in  what 
was  afterward  called  Garfield  county,  but  was  then  a  part 
of  Wheeler  county.  West  of  us  there  was  a  large  tract  of 
country,  several  miles  in  extent,  of  exceedingly  rough  sand 
hills  and  ridges,  without  valleys  of  any  considerable  size.  It 
was  thought  best  to  explore  this  rough  tract  in  order  to 
determine  whether  or  not  it  should  be  the  place  for  our  con- 
templated hunt  later  in  the  season. 

The  next  morning,  leaving  the  horses  in  camp,  we 
struck  out  afoot,  going  in  different  directions,  as  we  both 
preferred  to  hunt  separately.  Up  to  this  time  we  had  not 
hunted  much,  and  the  game  killed  was  only  one  deer  apiece 
— thanks  to  my  negligence  in  letting  the  herd  of  elk  get 
away  without  firing  a  shot.  This  proved  to  be  a  very  bad 
day  for  hunting.  Tt  did  not  storm,  but  there  was  a  fierce 
northwest  wind  all  day  long.     Game  does  not  move  about 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  189 

much  at  such  a  time,  and  there  is  Httle  chance  of  finding 
it  unless  one  stumbles  on  it  by  accident.  However  it  proved 
to  be  my  lucky  day,  and  something  very  unusual  happened. 
It  is,  as  before  stated,  for  the  purpose  of  telling  some  of  the 
unusual  and  surprising  things  that  sometimes  happen  to  a 
hunter  that  some  of  these  stories  are  written. 

I  had  gone  perhaps  two  miles  from  camp  in  a  north- 
westerly direction,  following  the  general  course  of  the 
stream,  but  working  gradually  into  the  sand  hills,  when  I 
saw  directly  ahead,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  a 
bunch  of  black  tail  deer  .  There  were  ten  or  twelve  of  them, 
all  lying  down  under  the  lee  of  a  high  sand  ridge,  well  up 
towards  its  top.  Dropping  down  quickly  into  the  grass  I 
watched  them  for  some  time,  partly  to  discover,  if  possible, 
whether  they  had  seen  me  or  not,  and  partly  to  find  out  the 
best  way  of  approach.  Nearby,  a  short  distance  to  my  left, 
was  a  small  blow-out,  and  at  its  base  were  several  clumps 
of  ash  trees.  Crawling  through  the  grass  to  the  cover  thus 
afforded,  I  was  able  to  walk  toward  the  game  for  some  dis- 
tance, as  there  was  then  one  or  two  other  little  hills  in  range 
with  the  deer  that  also  furnished  shelter  from  their  sight. 
As  I  was  passing  the  blow-out  a  black  tail  buck  very  delib- 
erately walked  out  of  it  over  its  northern  rim  within  twenty 
steps  of  where  I  was  standing.  He  did  not  see  me  until  the 
motion  of  throwing  the  rifle  to  my  shoulder  drew  his  at- 
tention, when  he  stopped,  turned  his  head  towards  me,  but 
did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  afraid.  How  many  times  since 
have  I  thought,  what  a  picture  that  would  have  made  had 
I  been  armed  with  a  camera  instead  of  a  rifle.  My  conscience 
almost  smites  me  even  today,  when  there  comes  to  my  mind 
the  thought  of  the  time  after  time  that  I  have  been  guilty 
of  taking  advantage  of  those  innocent  animals  when  they 
were  utterly  unaware  of  danger.  Even  at  one  time  I  shot 
a  black  tail  deer  when  he  was  asleep  and  nodding,  exactly 
as  a  drowsy  person  will  do.    Possibly  I  may  tell  of  it  some 


190  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

time  in  another  story.  But  there  was  no  chance  to  consider 
the  question  at  that  time.  The  aim  was  caught,  the  trigger 
pulled,  and  the  hair  was  seen  to  curl  where  the  bullet  struck 
just  back  of  the  shoulder.  The  deer  turned,  and  giving  one 
strong  bound  in  an  instant  was  out  of  sight  in  the  blow-out. 
Another  cartridge  was  thrown  in,  and  I  was  just  at  the  point 
of  taking  a  step  toward  the  blow-out,  when  another  deer 
came  out  on  the  jump,  saw  me  and  stopped  to  look.  Again 
I  fired,  but  so  quickly  that  I  could  not  tell  whether  the  deer 
was  struck  or  not.  He,  like  the  first  one,  turned,  and  with 
one  big  jump  landed  out  of  sight  in  the  blow-out.  I  had 
not  taken  more  than  a  step  or  two  when  out  came  another 
deer,  or  one  of  the  same  that  had  already  appeared,  I  could 
not  tell  which,  they  all  looked  just  alike.  I  supposed  how- 
ever that  it  was  the  second  one  shot  at,  for  it  seemed  cer- 
tain that  the  first  one  was  hard  hit,  while  it  was  uncertain 
whether  the  second  one  was  hit  at  all  or  not.  This  last  one, 
however,  kept  on  running  but  was  tumbled  over  before  he 
was  sixty  steps  away.  I  now  looked  about  to  see  what  had 
happened.  I  found  one  dead  deer  lying  in  the  blow-out,  and 
another,  the  last  one,  where  he  fell  about  sixty  steps  further 
north.  Taking  care  of  the  two  deer  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  washing  my  hands  in  a  pool  of  clear  water  at  the  bottom 
of  the  blow-out,  and  shouldering  the  rifle  I  started  north 
to  see  what  had  become  of  the  herd  of  a  dozen  or  so  that 
I  was  creeping  up  to  when  I  accidentally  found  the  two  just 
killed.  To  my  surprise  they  were  in  the  same  place  they 
were  in  when  first  seen.  The  wind  was  so  strong  from  the 
north  that  either  they  did  not  hear  the  crack  of  the  rifle,  or 
else  the  sound  was  so  deadened  by  the  wind  that  they  did 
not  notice  it.  It  was  easy  to  approach  within  seventy-five 
or  eighty  steps,  and  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  the  rifle  rest- 
ing on  a  little  hummock  of  earth  on  top  of  a  knoll  and  tak- 
ing careful  aim  I  fired  and  missed.  I  never  had  a  fairer 
shot  and,  as  I  thought,  never  took  more  careful  aim.     The 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  191 

deer  was  a  big  doe,  lying  down,  breast  toward  me.  The 
shot  went  too  low,  just  cutting  out  a  bunch  of  hair  at  the 
lower  point  of  the  brisket,  the  bullet  burying  itself  in  the 
sand  underneath  the  deer.  They  all  went  over  the  hill  in 
an  instant.  Among  them  was  a  very  large  buck  with  wide 
spreading  horns.  I  did  not  see  these  deer  again,  but  going 
on  I  got  two  shots  at  white  tail  deer,  missing  one  clear,  and 
slightly  wounding  another. 

By  this  time  it  was  well  past  noon,  and  the  day  being 
so  disagreeable  I  turned  back  toward  camp.  I  found  too 
that  I  had  only  one  cartridge  left.  At  that  time  I  did  not 
own  a  cartridge  belt,  but  carried  the  cartridges  loose  in  my 
pockets.  The  rifle  used  was  not  a  magazine  gun  but  the 
single-shot,  breech-loading  Sharps  carbine  mentioned  in 
some  of  the  previous  articles.  I  think  it  was  the  only  time 
in  all  my  hunting  experiences  that  I  failed  to  take  along 
ammunition  enough  to  last  through  the  day. 

On  the  way  back  to  camp  I  got  to  thinking  about  the 
two  black  tail  bucks  killed  at  the  little  blow-out,  and  all  at 
once  it  came  to  my  mind  that  perhaps  there  might  have  been 
three  deer  instead  of  two.  Changing  my  course  slightly  I 
went  back  to  look  the  ground  over  again.  On  arriving  at 
the  rim  of  the  blow-out,  sure  enough  there  were  fresh  tracks 
where  a  deer  had  gone  out  at  a  low  place  on  the  southwest 
side  of  the  blow-out.  Following  the  tracks  in  the  sand  there 
soon  began  to  be  blood  on  either  side,  and  within  a  hundred 
steps  the  deer  was  seen  lying  down.  He  jumped  up  and 
started  to  run,  but  it  was  plain  that  he  was  badly  hurt.  I 
gave  him  the  last  cartridge,  which  only  made  a  flesh  wound, 
but  did  not  help  matters  at  all.  I  studied  it  over  a  little  while 
as  to  what  it  was  best  to  do,  whether  to  leave  him  for  the 
present,  or  to  run  him  down  afoot,  and  decided  to  try  the 
latter.  Taking  off  my  coat  and  leaving  it  with  the  gun  I 
started  in  on  the  race.    I  had  read  that  the  Apache  Indians, 


193  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

by  relieving  each  other  every  few  hours  by  several  fresh 
relays,  will  run  down  a  well  deer  and  I  had  plenty  of  con- 
fidence that  I  could  easily  outrun  this  badly  wounded  one. 
But  I  soon  found  out  my  mistake — he  outwinded  me.  In 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  I  gave  it  up,  concluding  I  had 
had  enough  exercise  for  one  day.  The  next  morning  we 
moved  camp  early  to  the  place  where  the  three  deer  had 
been  shot.  The  wounded  one  was  found  dead  very  near 
where  I  had  left  him  the  preceding  day. 

These  three  were  all  young  deer,  probably  two  years 
old  the  previous  spring.  They  all  looked  exactly  aHke  and 
were  of  the  same  size.  Doubtless  they  had  been  driven  from 
the  herd  by  the  master  buck,  and  were  thus  keeping  together 
for  company.  Such  is  the  habit  of  both  elk  and  black  tail 
deer — the  younger  bucks  when  driven  out  will  herd  in  twos 
and  threes,  but  an  old  fellow  who  has  himself  been  the  boss 
of  the  herd,  and  has  been  overcome  in  battle  always  goes 
by  himself. 

I  have  never  seen  a  battle  between  two  deer  or  two  elk, 
but  I  once  killed  a  black  tail  buck  in  Logan  township  not 
more  than  four  miles  from  where  Elgin  now  stands,  that 
had  gotten  the  worst  of  it  in  battle.  His  hide  was  pricked 
full  of  holes  in  several  places  by  the  sharp  horns  of  his  rival, 
and  in  two  places  these  had  become  running  sores.  I  left 
him  lying  on  the  ground  where  he  fell,  not  even  saving  the 
hide. 

We  remained  two  nights  at  this  camp,  and  what  a  camp 
it  was  !  How  pleasant  to  call  to  mind  the  comfort,  the  pleas- 
ure, the  satisfaction,  with  which  we  spent  the  two  remaining 
days  before  starting  for  home.  There  was  our  little  warm 
tepee  of  straight  ash  poles  with  an  old  carpet  for  a  cover, 
a  bright  warm  camp  fire  of  ash  wood,  shelter  from  the  wind 
under  the  lee  of  the  big  hills,  clear  water  for  the  camp,  and 
good  pasture  for  the  horses,  plenty  of  provisions    brought 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  193 

from  home —  bread,  biscuits,  butter,  baked  beans,  flour  and 
baking  powder  for  flapjacks,  a  jug  of  home-made  sorghum, 
salt  and  pepper  for  the  fresh  venison,  doughnuts  to  be  eaten 
with  the  coffee,  appetites  that  never  failed  us,  weather  the 
best  ever  afforded  by  our  splendid  Nebraska  climate,  neither 
too  warm  nor  too  cold — just  sharp  enough  to  make  vigorous 
exercise  a  pleasure,  and  lastly  Dan's  pipe  and  tobacco,  for 
Dan  was  a  good  smoker. 

It  makes  me  homesick.    Ring  down  the  curtain ! 


194  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Hunting  Stories  and  Habits  of  Wild  Animals — Concluded. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  September  1873  that  we  were 
in  camp  on  Elm  creek  in  Valley  county,  just  at  the  north 
side  of  the  valley  of  the  North  Loup  river,  and  about  three 
miles  northeast  of  the  place  where  the  city  of  Ord  now 
stands.  At  that  early  date,  however,  there  was  no  Ord,  and 
the  settlements  of  Valley  county  were  confined  chiefly  to 
the  immediate  valley  of  the  North  Loup  river,  although  there 
were  three  or  four  settlers  located  in  the  valley  of  the  Middle 
Loup,  near  the  present  site  of  Arcadia,  and  two  or  three  on 
Myra  creek,  just  west  of  the  present  site  of  North  Loup 
village.  In  fact,  at  that  date.  Valley,  Greeley  and  Sherman 
counties  were  only  just  beginning  to  settle  up,  and  that  only 
in  the  valleys  of  the  larger  streams.  The  great  mass  of  the 
territory  of  these  counties  just  mentioned,  together  with  all 
of  Custer  county,  was  as  yet  as  primitive  a  wilderness  as  it 
was  when  Lewis  and  Clark  made  their  memorable  journey 
of  exploration  up  the  Missouri  river,  and  across  the  conti- 
nent to  Oregon  in  1804-6. 

At  that  time  the  counties  of  Wheeler,  Greeley,  Valley, 
Sherman,  Custer,  Loup  and  Blaine  were  alive  with  big 
game — elk,  white  tail  deer,  black  tail  deer  and  antelope.  I 
hunted  in  all  the  counties  named  above  more  or  less  from 
1871  to  1880,  and  I  have  never  seen  anywhere  a  better  game 
country.  Game  of  all  the  kinds  just  mentioned  was  also 
abundant  in  Boone,  Antelope,  Holt  and  Howard  counties, 
but  not  so  very  plentiful  as  in  the  counties  first  named.  The 
antelope  held  to  the  level  and  undulating  tracts  of  high  land, 
and  to  the  smooth  wide  bottoms  of  the  large  streams,  where 
they  could  both  see  and  be  seen,  but  they  avoided  the  ex- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  195 

tremely  rough  lands,  the  patches  of  timber  and  brush  along 
the  streams,  and  the  tracts  of  half  swampy  land  that  occurred 
in  some  places  and  that  were  covered  with  big  grass,  rushes, 
reeds  and  patches  of  willow  brush.  The  places  avoided  by 
the  antelope  were  just  the  very  places  that  afforded  a  home 
for  the  white  tail  deer,  excepting  the  very  rough  land  which 
they  did  not  often  visit.  Where  the  land  was  the  roughest 
and  most  broken  into  canyons  and  deep  ravines,  there  the 
black  tail  deer  were  at  home.  They  were  also  plentiful  in 
the  great  sand  hill  country,  wherever  it  was  found  in  the 
counties  named  above,  and  also  in  the  sand  hill  country  far- 
ther west.  The  elk  were  at  home  anywhere  and  everywhere, 
roaming  at  will  throughout  all  the  territory  mentioned  above. 
There  were  also  as  late  as  1873,  a  few  straggling  buffalo 
left  in  that  country.  It  was  not  my  good  luck  to  find  any 
of  them,  but  I  did  see  their  tracks,  and  their  beds  where  they 
had  lain  in  the  grass  on  two  or  three  occasions.  It  surely 
was  a  great  game  country  where  one  could  take  his  choice 
as  to  whether  he  would  hunt  antelope  or  either  kind  of  deer, 
and  where  he  was  liable  any  day  to  run  across  a  band  of  elk. 
Besides  it  was  so  near  to  our  own  home  in  Antelope  county 
that  it  could  easily  be  reached  by  team,  and  if  game  should 
not  be  found  in  the  near  vicinity  of  home,  it  was  never  more 
than  one  or  two  days'  drive  away. 

Our  camp  was  made  up  of  seven  men,  four  of  whom 
were  surveyors,  two  teamsters  and  camp  helpers,  and  one  a 
cook.  There  were  two  tents,  one  a  large  one,  in  which  the 
surveyors  and  teamsters  slept,  and  where  the  meals  were 
served,  and  a  smaller  one  used  as  a  kitchen,  and  which  was 
occupied  by  Sam,  the  negro  cook.  In  fine  weather  the  table 
was  set,  and  the  meals  eaten  frequently  out  of  doors  in  front 
of  the  big  tent.  That  fall,  1873,  we  were  finishing  up  the 
examination  and  platting  of  the  B.  &  M.  R.  R.  lands.  The 
outfit  was  in  charge  of  J.  N.  Livingston  of  Lincoln,  Neb., 
and  all  the  men  were  from  the  south  Platte  country  except- 


196  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ing  myself.  They  had  just  completed  the  work  in  Webster 
and  Franklin  counties,  south  of  the  Platte,  and  had  moved 
the  outfit  across  the  country  to  Valley  county  where  we  were 
now  in  camp  as  already  stated.  We  had  been  at  this  camp 
about  a  week,  and  one  day  more  would  finish  the  work  in 
that  neighborhood.  As  I  was  the  only  one  of  the  company 
acquainted  with  the  country,  Mr.  Livingston  put  it  upon  me 
to  select  the  place  for  the  next  camp,  and  for  each  succeed- 
ing camp,  and  to  guide  the  outfit  as  it  was  moved  from 
place  to  place.  They  had  worked  all  summer  in  a  country 
where  deer  were  scarce,  and  where  there  were  no  elk,  and 
antelope  were  hard  to  get,  consequently  they  had  had  no  game 
excepting  one  wild  turkey  that  one  of  the  men  killed  in  the 
timber  on  the  Republican  river,  and  an  occasional  mess  of 
prairie  chickens.  They  all  began  to  talk  venison  to  me  as 
soon  as  I  joined  the  company,  and  as  I  struck  out  early  in 
the  morning  on  horseback  to  look  up  the  location  for  a  new 
camp,  Mr.  Livingston  wished  I  might  bring  home  a  deer 
when  I  came  back  in  the  evening. 

Our  next  work  would  be  in  Greeley  county,  and  the 
camp  would  have  to  be  located  on  the  head  of  Wallace  creek, 
as  far  up  the  creek  as  water  could  be  found.  It  was  about 
fifteen  miles  in  a  direct  line  to  the  place  where  the  next 
camp  would  be  located,  but  as  it  was  extremely  hilly  and 
rough  part  of  the  way,  it  would  be  necessary  to  travel  about 
twenty  miles  with  the  wagons  in  moving  camp.  The  country 
was  new  and  unsettled  all  the  way,  and  as  it  was  a  good 
place  for  black  tail  deer  and  elk,  I  felt  pretty  sure  of  being 
able  to  comply  with  Mr.  Livingston's  wish.  I  was  riding 
Flora — the  best  and  most  trusty  riding  animal  I  ever  owned. 
Anywhere,  I  could  jump  off  her  back,  throw  the  reins  down 
over  her  head,  and  she  would  go  to  feeding  at  once,  and 
wait  for  my  return.  If  the  bridle  rein  was  left  over  the 
horn  of  the  saddle,  she  would  follow  behind  like  a  dog.  She 
was  not  afraid  of  game  ,and  would  carry  any  kind  upon 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  197 

her  back,  and  was  not  in  the  least  gun  shy.  I  found  the 
game  all  right  and  got  it,  and  besides  had  a  day  of  unusual 
experiences  the  relating  of  which,  I  hope,  will  be  a  pleasure 
to  those  who  read  it.  I  had  gone  five  or  six  miles  in  a  north- 
east direction  and  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge  divid- 
ing the  waters  of  Elm  from  those  of  Wallace  creek,  when 
I  reined  up  the  mare  to  take  a  good  look  ahead  for  game. 
To  my  left  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  was  a  rather  deep 
ravine  lined  with  oak  and  ash  trees  of  small  size  and  an 
undergrowth  of  choke  cherry  and  plum  brush.  A  half  mile 
away  to  the  east  it  run  out,  spreading  itself  out  in  a  weed 
patch  as  it  joined  the  level  flat  land.  It  was  a  fine  resort 
for  black  tail  deer,  and  in  a  moment  or  two  I  saw  two  feed- 
ing part  way  down  the  bank,  on  the  north  side.  Slipping 
off  the  mare  and  leading  her  back  out  of  sight  I  threw  down 
the  bridle  reins  and  left  her  to  feed.  It  was  necessary  to 
make  quite  a  detour  in  order  to  keep  out  of  sight.  The  place 
near  where  the  deer  were  I  had  marked  by  a  large  clump 
of  oak  grubs,  ten  or  twelve  feet  high,  that  offered  a  good 
screen.  Arriving  at  the  place,  cocking  my  rifle  and  making 
ready  to  shoot  quickly,  I  watched  for  the  game  several  min- 
utes, but  could  see  nothing  of  it.  Then  I  whistled  several 
times  and  finally,  seeing  nothing,  was  about  to  give  it  up, 
thinking  the  deer  had  gone  either  up  or  down  the  ravine. 
When,  just  as  I  was  about  to  turn,  one  of  them  jumped  out 
of  the  weeds  within  ten  steps  of  where  I  was  standing,  and 
springing  about  half  way  up  the  steep  slope  on  the  other 
side,  stopped  stock  still,  turning  its  head  to  look  at  me.  I 
was  too  much  surprised  to  take  a  safe  shot,  but  pointing  the 
gun  in  that  direction,  I  fired,  the  shot  hitting  the  bank  about 
a  foot  above  the  game.  The  deer  made  a  little  start  but  did 
not  run.  I  fired  again,  this  time  taking  aim,  and  shot  it 
through  the  lungs.  It  made  a  jump  or  two,  landing  in  the 
weeds  in  the  ravine,  where  it  fell.  The  second  deer  sprang 
out,  went  half  way  up  the  bank  and  stopped  to  look  at  the 


198  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

first  deer,  which  now  lay  kicking  in  the  weeds.  Again  I 
fired  the  gun  in  the  direction  of  the  deer,  and  plainly  saw 
where  the  ball  struck  over  its  back  in  the  bank.  This  second 
deer  did  not  stir  except  to  start,  but  kept  watching  the  first 
one.  The  second  shot  brought  it  down,  the  two  falling  not 
more  than  three  or  four  steps  apart.  I  had  killed  a  good 
many  deer  before  this,  and  thought  I  could  always  keep  cool 
enough  to  take  accurate  aim.  Well,  this  time  I  had  learned 
something  new  about  my  ability  and  my  failings  as  a  hunter. 

These  deer  were  young,  probably  yearlings,  were  very 
tame,  and  it  is  likely,  had  never  seen  a  man  before.  Dress- 
ing the  deer,  laying  them  in  a  shady  place  and  covering 
them  over  with  choke  cherry  bushes,  I  went  on.  In  two  or 
three  hours  more  I  had  found  a  pool  of  clear  water  at  the 
very  head  of  Wallace  creek,  where  there  was  an  abundance 
of  dry  elm  wood  and  some  ash  for  camp  fires,  and  plenty 
of  good  grass  for  the  horses.  Having  seen  fresh  signs  of 
elk,  I  thought  it  best  to  try  to  get  one  on  my  way  back  to 
camp.  Taking  a  long  circuit  to  the  north  of  the  course  fol- 
lowed on  my  way  out,  I  sighted  a  herd  of  about  twenty-five 
about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  They  were  feeding  in 
a  rather  flat  sandy  country  where  there  were  some  low  knolls 
and  an  occasional  patch  of  plum  bushes,  so  that  it  was  not 
hard  to  get  near  enough  for  a  shot,  and  besides  the  wind 
was  favorable.  Leaving  Flora  where  she  would  be  out  of 
sight  I  approached  them  on  foot.  When  near  enough  for  a 
long  shot,  I  lay  in  the  grass  to  wait  and  watch,  as  they  were 
working  along  across  the  wind,  and  gradually  coming  near- 
er. My  hat  was  trimmed  with  grass,  and  as  I  lay  on  my 
stomach,  resting  on  my  elbows,  this  brought  my  head  high 
enough  so  that  the  elk  were  in  plain  sight  through  the  scat- 
tering stalks  of  blue  stem.  What  a  sight  that  was !  It  was 
too  early  in  the  season  for  the  young  bucks  to  be  driven  out 
of  the  herd,  although  the  old  master  buck  was  there  with 
his  big  branching  antlers.    There  were  several,  probably  five 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  199 

or  six  younger  bucks,  not  so  large  as  the  big  one,  but  yet  of 
good  size,  and  there  were  also  cows,  calves  and  yearlings. 
Some  were  feeding,  some  playing,  and  all  were  moving 
slowly  along  to  the  south — the  wind  being  in  the  west. 
Among  those  in  the  lead  were  two  young  bucks,  probably 
two  years  old,  that  were  butting  and  pushing  each  other  and 
rattling  their  horns  together. 

It  was  time  to  pick  out  my  elk  and  do  some  shooting. 
They  were  now  not  over  seventy-five  steps  away.  There 
was  no  excuse  for  a  careless  aim  this  time.  Selecting  one 
of  the  young  bucks  of  fair  size,  but  not  large,  and  taking 
careful  aim,  I  fired,  the  ball  striking  low  down  just  back  of 
the  shoulder.  He  made  two  or  three  jumps  and  fell.  The 
herd  started  to  run,  but  soon  bunched  and  stopped  to  look 
back.  It  was  easy  to  get  another,  but  we  did  not  need  it, 
and  I  had  never  made  a  practice  of  killing  game  when  it 
was  not  wanted.  Dressing  the  elk — a  very  fine  fat  one — 
skinning  out  one  ham  and  cutting  the  meat  from  the  bone 
in  as  large  pieces  as  possible,  putting  it  in  each  end  of  a 
grain  sack  in  which  had  been  carried  oats  for  Flora's  dinner, 
tying  the  sack  behind  the  saddle  and  mounting  Flora,  I  went 
back  to  camp.  When  within  hearing  of  the  cook's  tent,  I 
listened  to  Sam  who  had  just  begun  to  get  supper.  He  was 
singing  his  favorite  love  ditty  the  chorus  of  which  ran  thus : 

"Ten  thousand  miles  away. 
Ten  thousand  miles  away, 
O,  I  will  go  to  my  true  love, 
Ten  thousand  miles  away." 

Sam  was  a  splendid  cook — he  did  his  best  that  night. 
We  were  all  hungry — we  were  all  happy — we  had  elk  steak 
for  supper. 


200  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
Hunting  Stories — Lying  In  Wait  for  Game. 

Every  person  who  has  done  much  hunting  for  large 
game,  has  found  out  that  often  the  best  way  to  get  a  shot 
is  to  He  in  wait  for  the  game  to  approach.  This  is  equally 
true  whether  the  hunting  is  done  on  the  prairie  or  in  the 
timber.    All  kinds  of  game  travel  about  a  great  deal. 

The  elk  do  not  seem  to  have  any  particular  section  of 
the  country  that  is  home  to  them,  but  they  roam  from  one 
part  to  another,  going  wherever  the  feed  is  good,  and  where 
water  is  not  far  away,  because  they  must  have  a  drink  at 
least  once  in  every  twenty-four  hours.  It  is  their  nature 
when  feeding  or  traveling  to  follow  a  course  that  will  take 
them  either  into  or  across  the  wind,  as  they  depend  upon 
the  nose  more  than  upon  their  eyesight  to  warn  them  of 
danger.  A  band  of  elk  that  is  found  in  a  certain  place  at 
one  time,  will  very  likely  be  twenty  or  thirty  miles  away  in 
a  few  days  or  weeks. 

With  both  kinds  of  deer  it  is  different.  They  travel 
about  a  great  deal,  but  confine  their  roaming  generally  to 
a  certain  territory,  a  few  miles  across,  within  some  part  of 
which  they  are  pretty  sure  to  be  found  if  it  is  thoroughly 
hunted.  They,  too,  visit  some  watering  place  generally 
once  a  day. 

The  antelope  are  different  both  from  the  elk  and  from 
the  deer.  During  the  season  when  the  fawns  are  brought 
forth  they  stick  pretty  closely  to  one  locality,  where  they 
remain  in  little  scattered  bands  until  the  fawns  are  half  or 
two-thirds  grown,  when  they  begin  to  get  together  in  large 
droves,  and  soon  thereafter  journey  to  the  place  chosen  for 
winter  quarters.     The  winter  feeding  grounds  consist  of  a 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  201 

large  tract  of  level,  undulating,  or  rolling,  but  not  rough 
country.  In  such  a  place  they  will  stay  all  winter  if  not  too 
much  disturbed.  Theodore  Roosevelt  says  that  no  matter 
how  far  the  antelope  are  from  water  they  go  to  it  once  a 
day.  I  think  he  is  mistaken  on  that  point,  however.  I  be- 
lieve they  go  several  days  without  water,  especially  if  there 
is  dew  or  an  occasional  shower,  enough  to  wet  the  grass. 

Those  who  read  these  articles  will  bear  in  mind  that  I 
am  speaking  from  experience  gained  in  Nebraska,  where 
nearly  all  of  my  observations  have  been  made.  Further 
west  where  climatic  and  other  conditions  are  not  the  same, 
the  habits  of  all  these  animals  may  be  somewhat  different. 

All  of  these  different  kinds  of  animals  travel  about  a 
great  deal,  either  while  feeding,  or  going  to  or  from  the 
watering  places,  or  to  shun  some  place  of  fancied  danger, 
or  without  any  apparent  object  in  view,  other  than  to  keep 
moving. 

The  reader  can  readily  see  that  on  the  prairie,  when 
game  is  sighted  at  a  distance,  moving  along  in  a  certain 
direction,  it  may  often  be  an  easy  matter  for  the  hunter  to 
intercept  the  line  of  travel  and  secrete  himself  so  as  to  get 
a  shot  as  the  game  is  passing  by.  In  the  timber  the  same 
course  can  be  followed,  provided  the  growth  is  not  very 
dense. 

The  elk,  and  both  kinds  of  deer  are  not  likely  to  pay 
any  attention  to  a  man  who  is  hidden  in  the  grass,  or  be- 
hind a  knoll  or  clump  of  bushes,  even  if  his  head  is  in  sight, 
provided  his  hat  is  trimmed  with  grass,  and  provided  he 
does  not  stir,  for  the  least  movement  will  attract  attention. 
Neither  is  it  difficult  to  approach  elk,  or  either  kind  of  deer 
by  lying  flat  and  crawling  through  the  grass,  if  the  grass 
is  high  enough  and  thick  enough  to  afford  a  tolerable  shel- 
ter. At  such  a  time  they  are  very  apt  to  watch  and  wait 
until  satisfied  as  to  whether  there  is  danger  or  not.    Some- 


202  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

times,  even,  they  will  come  part  way  to  meet  the  hunter. 
Of  course  on  all  such  occasions  the  wind  must  be  favorable. 
But  an  antelope  cannot  be  fooled  in  that  way,  excepting  in 
a  remote  place  where  they  have  not  been  hunted.  They  are 
suspicious  of  any  unusual  object,  and  will  keep  at  a  safe 
distance.  The  only  way  to  approach  an  antelope  is  to  keep 
entirely  out  of  sight,  unless  they  may  be  blinded  by  looking 
toward  the  sun,  when  it  is  only  a  little  way  above  the  hori- 
zon. 

Of  course  I  am  stating  these  things  as  I  have  learned 
them  from  my  own  observations.  The  experiences  of  others 
may  vary  a  good  deal  from  my  own. 

One  more  word  in  regard  to  the  habits  of  these  differ- 
ent kinds  of  wild  animals  as  to  whether  they  visit  the  water- 
ing places  once  a  day  or  not. 

In  the  early  days,  here  in  Antelope  county,  there  were 
many  more  antelope  than  deer  and  elk  together,  and  yet  it 
was  seldom  that  an  antelope  was  seen  to  visit  a  watering 
place,  while  the  deer  were  very  often  seen  at,  or  going  to, 
or  from  the  water.  Besides  where  there  was  a  pond  or  pool 
on  the  prairie  distant  from  any  other  watering  place,  it 
would  show  many  more  tracks  of  deer  than  antelope,  and 
if  a  herd  of  elk  had  recently  been  in  the  neighborhood,  it 
would  be  all  trampled  up  by  them. 

One  time  in  the  early  eighties — it  must  have  been  in 
1883  or  1884 — I  made  my  last  hunt  in  Wheeler  county. 
There  had  been  only  a  few  deer  in  Antelope  county  since 
the  hard  winter  of  1880,  but  there  were  still  a  good  many 
white  tail  and  a  few  black  tail  deer  left  in  Wheeler  county, 
especially  in  the  western  part  about  the  head  of  Beaver  creek. 
My  nephew,  W.  H.  Whitmore,  who  had  never  been  out  on 
a  hunt,  was  very  anxious  to  make  one  try  at  it  before  the 
game  all  disappeared  from  this  part  of  the  state.  A  full 
account  of  the  hunt  will  not  be  given  in  detail  for  the  reason 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  203 

that  this  story  is  to  conform  chiefly  to  the  title — "Lying  in 
wait  for  game." 

We  were  caught  in  a  blizzard  the  first  night  after  reach- 
ing our  hunting  grounds,  and  were  glad  to  retrace  our  steps 
three  miles  the  next  morning  to  the  sod  house  of  a  settler. 
Here  we  stayed  through  the  storm,  helping  to  twist  hay 
for  the  stove,  for  they  used  hay  for  fuel ;  but  the  sod  house 
was  warm  and  comfortable,  and  twisting  hay  was  good  ex- 
ercise. After  the  storm  we  went  out  and  had  the  good  luck 
to  kill  a  white  tail  doe  the  first  day,  which  kept  the  family 
of  the  settler  and  ourselves  eating  while  we  were  there. 

The  next  day  we  went  west  into  the  rough  hills,  hop- 
ing to  find  a  few  black  tail  deer,  but  there  were  no  signs 
not  even  a  track.  The  weather  was  intensely  cold,  and  my 
companion  froze  his  nose  before  we  had  been  out  an  hour. 
Toward  noon  we  found  shelter  from  the  keen  northwest 
wind  in  an  old  blow-out  that  had  become  grassed  over,  and 
gathering  up  a  big  pile  of  red  roots,  we  built  a  fire  and  were 
making  ourselves  comfortable  and  were  just  beginning  to 
thaw  out  our  luncheon,  which  had  frozen  in  our  pockets, 
when  looking  over  the  narrow  rim  of  the  blow-out  I  saw 
something  moving  that  looked  like  a  deer,  about  a  mile  away 
to  the  north.  With  a  field  glass  I  could  make  out  three 
white  tails  just  coming  out  of  a  range  of  low  sand  hills. 
They  were  traveling  toward  us,  sometimes  loping  for  a  little 
way,  then  walking  and  stopping  to  feed,  then  loping  again. 
We  hastily  covered  the  fire  with  loose  sand  so  as  to  prevent 
the  smoke  from  being  seen  by  the  game,  and  then,  as  my 
nephew  insisted  that  I  should  do  the  shooting,  I  made  ready 
in  case  they  should  come  near  enough.  They  came  on 
straight  toward  us,  and  we  both  kept  peering  over  the  rim, 
showing  only  our  heads,  and  moving  as  little  as  possible. 
When  about  forty  rods  away  they  veered  a  little  to  the  west 
and  were  passing  within  easy  range  when  I  fired  at  the 
largest  and  brought  it  down.     I  doubt  if  they  had  seen  us 


204  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

at  all  as  yet,  for  the  other  two,  instead  of  looking  toward 
us,  ran  off  a  few  rods  and  stopped  to  watch  the  fallen  deer. 
Another  shot  brought  down  the  second  deer.  I  believe  I 
might  have  gotten  the  third  one,  but  in  changing  my  posi- 
tion to  get  a  better  chance  it  saw  me  and  immediately  ran 
away,  a  long  distance  parting  shot  failing  to  hit.  We  hunt- 
ed one  more  day  without  success,  and  as  the  weather  con- 
tinued very  cold  and  somewhat  stormy,  we  pulled  out  for 
home. 

One  day  in  1872,  I  was  hunting  in  Greeley  county  to 
get  some  game  for  our  surveyors'  outfit  when  I  got  a  black 
tail  doe  by  lying  in  wait.  I  had  nearly  crossed  a  valley  and 
was  making  for  some  rough  hills  about  half  a  mile  to  the 
north,  when  I  distinctly  heard  three  or  four  shots  in  quick 
succession.  Watching  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  I  soon 
saw  a  black  tail  doe  coming  out  through  a  narrow  gap  in 
the  hills,  and  making  directly  toward  me.  There  was  no 
chance  to  hide  from  her  as  the  ground  was  perfectly  level 
where  I  was  standing,  and  the  grass  was  short.  Crouching 
down  as  low  as  possible  and  still  be  in  a  position  to  shoot, 
I  made  ready  in  case  she  came  near.  She  was  running  fast, 
and  without  noticing  me  at  all,  she  was  passing  within  a 
dozen  rods,  when  aiming  well  ahead  of  her  breast  I  pulled 
the  trigger.  She  fell  at  the  crack  of  the  rifle,  shot  through 
both  hips,  the  passage  of  the  ball  spoiling  quite  a  bit  of  the 
best  part  of  the  meat.  Had  I  aimed  at  the  shoulders  the 
ball  would  have  gone  entirely  behind  her. 

In  November,  1871,  Mr.  E.  R.  Palmer  of  Cedar  creek 
and  myself  were  hunting  in  Greeley  county  in  company  with 
C.  P.  Mathewson,  John  S.  McClary  and  W.  H.  Lowe  of 
Norfolk,  and  a  man  by  the  name  of  Porter  (I  think  that  is 
the  name)  of  Dakota  City,  when  I  had  quite  an  experience 
with  an  elk  for  which  I  lay  in  wait.  A  company  of  six  is 
too  large  to  do  successful  hunting,  but  as  the  weather  was 
good,  and  game  was  plenty  and  tame,  we  were  having  pretty 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  205 

good  luck,  and  were  having  a  good  time.  All  had  killed 
some  game  excepting  Lowe  and  Porter.  Lowe  had  an  old 
Spencer  carbine  that  was  worthless  and  he  gave  up  hunting 
and  looked  after  the  camp.  Porter  had  a  good  double  bar- 
rel shot  gun,  but  had  been  unable  to  get  in  a  shot  at  close 
range.  He  thought  he  could  surely  get  some  game  if  he 
had  a  rifle.  As  we  were  to  move  camp  the  next  day,  and 
as  it  fell  to  my  lot,  as  usual,  to  act  as  guide  to  the  team  in 
moving,  and  I  could  therefore  do  little  or  no  hunting,  I 
offered  to  trade  guns  with  Porter  for  the  day.  He  was  glad 
enough  to  make  the  exchange.  We  were  to  move  about 
fifteen  miles,  Mr.  McClary  and  Lowe  keeping  with  the  team, 
while  I,  acting  as  guide,  would  either  go  ahead  or  off  some 
distance  to  one  side  in  search  of  game.  We  had  gone  per- 
haps two  miles  when  I  came  across  a  spike  horn  white  tail 
buck,  in  a  little  grove  of  box  elder  trees.  He  did  not  offer 
to  run,  but  stood  watching  me,  not  over  ten  rods  away.  I 
fired,  nearly  every  buck  shot  taking  effect,  and  he  fell  with- 
out hardly  making  a  jump.  Loading  on  the  deer,  I  directed 
those  with  the  team  to  follow  up  a  certain  ridge,  and,  if  I 
did  not  overtake  them  to  wait  near  a  hill  about  two  miles 
distant  but  in  plain  sight. 

Striking  off  toward  the  left,  and  gradually  increasing 
the  distance  from  the  wagon,  I  had  not  gone  much  more 
than  half  a  mile,  and  was  following  up  along  the  side  of  a 
ravine,  when  I  saw  an  elk  coming  over  a  hill  about  half  a 
mile  away.  He  entered  the  same  ravine  I  was  following 
and  was  coming  down  to  meet  me  on  a  fast  trot.  There 
was  not  the  least  shelter  or  screen  of  any  kind  near  me,  not 
even  any  grass,  for  just  there  the  fire  had  crossed  the  ravine 
and  burned  everything  off.  I  knelt  down  on  one  knee  and 
waited,  thinking  the  elk  would  surely  see  me  and  turn  off 
in  some  other  direction.  He  came  on  without  paying  the 
least  attention  to  me,  and  was  passing  within  thirty  steps 
when  I  fired  one  barrel  and  as  he  turned,  gave  him  the  other 


206  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

one.  There  was  a  cut  bank  six  or  seven  feet  high  in  the 
direction  in  which  he  was  trying  to  go,  over  which  he  fell, 
striking  on  his  head,  and  breaking  off  one  horn.  Two  of 
his  legs  were  broken  by  the  shot,  and  one  buck  shot  went 
through  his  heart. 

Porter  came  to  camp  at  dusk  mourning  over  his  bad 
luck  and  regretting  that  he  did  not  hang  to  his  shot  gun — 
he  missed  with  the  rifle,  an  elk's  head,  not  more  than  fifteen 
steps  away — the  body  being  hidden  by  some  bushes. 

One  other  unusual  thing  happened  during  this  hunting 
trip,  that  will  here  be  related,  although  it  does  not  properly 
come  under  the  head  of  "Lying  in  wait  for  game."  It  is 
one  of  the  curious  and  uncommon  things  that  one  will  oc- 
casionally meet  with  if  he  spends  much  time  among  the 
wild  animals  of  the  woods  and  prairies. 

Two  or  three  days  before  we  moved  camp,  as  referred 
to  above,  I  was  hunting  in  company  with  Charley  Mathew- 
son.  I  suppose  he  was  without  a  rival  as  a  hunter  in  all 
this  part  of  the  country.  At  any  rate  he  was  the  best  at  a 
running  shot  of  any  man  with  whom  I  ever  hunted.  We 
were  running  ravines  together — that  is,  he  would  take  one 
side  of  a  ravine,  and  I  would  take  the  other,  and  keeping 
well  up  near  the  top  of  the  bank,  we  would  thus  trace  the 
whole  length  of  it,  and  if  a  deer  jumped  out  of  the  brush 
or  weeds,  one  of  us,  and  perhaps  both  would  be  pretty  sure 
to  get  a  shot.  We  had  followed  one  ravine  in  this  manner 
to  its  head  without  seing  any  game  except  two  deer  that 
crossed  our  course  ahead  of  us,  then,  striking  another  ravine 
farther  west  we  began  following  it  down  to  the  valley.  We 
bad  not  gone  far  before  I  saw  a  black  tail  buck  lying  down 
near  the  bottom  of  the  ravine.  He  was  lying  with  his  head 
from  me,  in  plain  sight,  and  not  more  than  seventy-five 
steps  away.  Mr.  Mathewson  was  on  the  other  side  of  a 
small,  but  deep  side  draw,  and  not  in  position  to  see  the 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  207 

game,  or  to  take  any  part  in  the  shooting  if  I  happened  to 
miss,  or  if  there  should  be  more  than  one  deer.  I  there- 
fore motioned  for  him  to  go  farther  down  and  take  posi- 
tion on  a  high  point,  that  would  give  him  a  better  chance. 
It  often  happens  that  while  only  one  deer  is  in  sight,  there 
may  be  several  near  by,  hidden  in  the  brush  or  weeds.  While 
Mr.  Mathewson  was  taking  his  position,  which  took  probably 
three  minutes,  I  had  a  chance  to  study  my  deer.  He  was 
asleep,  and  was  nodding.  It  is  the  only  time  I  ever  saw 
anything  of  the  kind.  He  would  raise  up  his  head,  then  it 
would  begin  to  nod,  nod,  two  or  three  times,  then  come  up 
again.  As  soon  as  my  comrade  was  in  position  I  took  aim 
and  fired,  the  ball  striking  between  the  shoulders  and  coming 
out  at  the  sticking  place. 

Those  men  who  pride  themselves  on  being  true  sports- 
men and  boast  of  it,  will  say  that  this  was  not  sportsman 
like — that  the  deer  should  have  been  routed  out  and  given 
a  chance  for  his  life.  I  did  not  stop  to  moraHze — for  five 
years  after  we  settled  in  Antelope  county,  if  we  had  any 
meat  at  all  in  the  family,  it  came  from  killing  game — this 
year,  1871,  was  one  of  the  five  years. 


208  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
Hunting  Stories — Lying  in  Wait  for  Game — Concluded. 

This  chapter,  like  the  previous  one,  will  give  some  of 
my  experiences  in  watching  and  waiting  for  game  to  ap- 
proach within  shooting  distance,  after  it  had  been  discovered 
when  some  distance  away,  and  the  direction  in  which  it  was 
traveling  had  been  determined.  I  have  never  had  any  good 
luck  in  watching  at  a  run-way,  or  in  lying  in  wait  at  one 
end  of  a  swamp  or  of  a  bushy  ravine,  while  others  under- 
took to  drive  the  game  towards  me.  In  every  such  instance 
the  game,  if  started  at  all,  either  turned  off  in  some  other 
direction,  or  else  broke  cover  too  far  away  from  my  station 
for  a  shot.  But  a  good  many  times  while  hunting  in  Ne- 
braska and  South  Dakota,  I  have  discovered  game  at  a  con- 
siderable distance,  anywhere  from  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  a 
mile  away,  and  by  noting  which  way  it  was  traveling,  have 
been  able  to  secrete  myself  in  such  a  position  as  to  get  a 
good  shot. 

Generally,  when  hunting,  I  have  carried  a  field  glass, 
and  with  its  help  have  found  game  when  it  was  so  far  off 
that  it  probably  would  not  have  been  seen  with  the  naked 
eye.  Many  times  also  when  something  was  seen  at  a  dis- 
tance that  might  or  might  not  be  game,  the  field  glass  would 
quickly  solve  the  question.  I  remember  one  time  while 
working  on  the  head  of  Wallace  creek  in  Greeley  county; 
I  had  been  running  section  lines  all  day  and  making  plats 
of  railroad  lands.  I  was  making  for  camp  as  fast  as  I  could 
walk,  as  it  was  almost  night,  when  I  saw  a  dark  object  at 
the  foot  of  a  clay  bank  about  eighty  rods  away  that  looked 
very  much  like  a  black  tail  deer  lying  down.  I  thought, 
what  a  chance  to  get  a  good  shot  if  that  was  only  a  deer. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  209 

However,  I  had  no  gun  with  me,  and  did  not  really  think 
it  could  be  a  deer,  but  supposed  it  to  be  a  weed  or  a  bunch 
of  grass.  When  passing  within  about  two  hundred  steps 
of  the  clay  bank,  the  spot  got  up,  stretched  itself,  looked  at 
me  for  a  second,  and  bounded  away  around  the  point  of  the 
bluff.  Had  I  been  hunting  at  the  time  and  had  with  me  a 
glass,  the  question  as  to  whether  the  object  was  a  deer  or 
not  could  have  been  quickly  solved,  and  most  likely  a  fair 
shot  could  have  been  secured.  Something  quite  similar  has 
happened  many  times  when  I  have  been  out  on  a  hunt,  and 
at  such  a  time,  and  at  very  many  such  times  in  fact,  a  field 
glass  was  very  convenient.  When  game  is  seen  traveling 
at  the  distance  of  a  half  mile  or  more  away,  one  can  deter- 
mine the  exact  course  it  is  taking  much  better  with,  than 
without  a  glass. 

After  the  year  1888,  all  the  hunting  done  by  me  was 
done  in  the  Black  Hills,  mostly  in  South  Dakota,  but  to  some 
extent  in  Wyoming.  Hunting  in  the  Black  Hills  was  very 
pleasant ;  not  that  game  was  any  plentier  than  it  was  on  the 
Loup  Fork  river  and  its  tributaries  in  the  early  days,  but 
because  of  the  enchanting  wildness  and  wonderful  diversity 
and  magnificence  of  the  scenery.  Whether  game  was  killed 
or  not,  a  hunting  and  camping  trip  in  the  Black  Hills  was 
always  a  source  of  unalloyed  pleasure.  In  fact,  I  never  had 
quite  as  good  luck  in  getting  game  in  the  Black  Hills  as  I 
have  had  in  the  country  west  and  southwest  of  Antelope 
county,  but  in  the  Black  Hills  the  best  of  camping  places 
could  be  found  everywhere,  with  good  water,  perfect  shel- 
ter, and  for  the  camp  fires,  fuel  without  end.  In  the  Black 
Hills  one  forgets  that  he  is  there  to  hunt  for  game,  and  is 
likely  to  put  in  the  time  climbing  the  steep  rugged  peaks  to 
enjoy  the  grand  scenery,  or  wandering  through  the  pine  and 
spruce  forests,  or  skirting  the  splendid  open  parks  and  glades 
that  are  so  numerous. 


210  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

After  the  year  1888  game  was  too  scarce  in  our  old 
hunting  grounds  in  Nebraska  to  make  it  at  all  enticing  to 
those  fond  of  the  sport,  and  the  Black  Hills  country  was 
the  nearest  place  where  large  game  could  be  found  in  any 
great  quantity.  I  believe,  if  my  memory  has  not  failed  me, 
that  I  made  five  excursions  to  the  Black  Hills  during  the 
nineties,  four  in  the  fall  of  the  year  for  hunting,  and  one 
in  the  summer  for  camping  and  trout  fishing.  It  is  not  the 
intention  to  give  in  this  story  a  full  account  of  these  hunting 
trips,  but  to  tell  of  four  different  times,  when  game  was 
killed  by  lying  in  wait  for  it  to  approach  near  enough  for 
a  shot. 

I  was  hunting  with  Sam  Coe — this  was  on  my  first 
hunting  trip  to  the  Hills — had  been  having  fairly  good  luck, 
for  although  I  had  missed  several  shots,  I  had  brought  down 
two  deer  at  a  shot  for  each,  a  black  tail  and  a  white  tail  doe. 
Sam  had  done  much  better,  for  he  was  a  better  shot  and  a 
much  better  hunter  than  I,  and  besides  he  was  used  to  hunt- 
ing in  the  timber,  but  I  was  not.  However,  it  is  probable 
that  I  was  enjoying  the  sport  as  much  if  not  more  than  he. 

We  struck  out  from  camp  as  soon  as  it  was  fairly  light, 
my  course  taking  me  almost  directly  west,  through  rather 
thick  timber  and  brush  at  first,  then  for  a  mile  or  so  through 
open  timber  with  occasional  thickets  where  deer  would  likely 
be  in  hiding,  and  where  two  or  three  were  routed  out  of  their 
beds,  but  without  giving  any  chance  for  a  shot.  The  coun- 
try was  beautiful,  not  rough  excepting  in  a  few  places,  tim- 
bered with  the  western  mountain  pine,  with  open  parks  and 
glades,  and  occasional  thickets  of  second  growth  pines  stand- 
ing very  thick  and  from  five  or  six,  to  twelve  or  fifteen  feet 
high.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  been  fairly  into  the 
Hills,  and  I  was  so  charmed  with  the  scenery  that  I  nearly 
forgot  to  look  for  game.  About  two  miles  from  camp,  after 
passing  through  a  narrow  strip  of  timber,  I  came  out  upon 
the  edge  of  an  open  glade,  traversed  through  its  center  by 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  211 

a  shallow  ravine.  There  were  a  few  pine  trees  of  quite  large 
size  scattered  along  the  borders  of  the  open  ground,  and 
just  in  front  of  where  I  was  standing  there  was  a  clump  of 
pines,  a  dozen  or  more  growing  close  together  near  the*  bot- 
tom of  the  ravine.  In  general,  however,  the  country  was 
open  up  and  down  the  glade  both  ways,  so  that  a  good  view 
could  be  had  for  half  a  mile  each  way.  Stopping  for  a  few 
minutes,  I  looked  the  country  over  each  way,  but  there  was 
nothing  in  sight.  Going  on,  I  had  just  reached  the  clump 
of  pines  in  front  when,  half  a  mile  off  to  the  south,  a  black 
tail  buck  was  seen  just  coming  into  the  open  ground.  He 
stopped  and  looked  for  an  instant,  and  then  putting  his  nose 
to  the  ground,  walked  along  a  few  rods  as  if  following  a 
track.  No  doubt  he  was  tracking  up  another  deer.  He  was 
coming  almost  directly  toward  me,  alternately  sniffing  at 
the  ground  and  then  loping  for  a  few  rods.  I  kept  perfect- 
ly still,  with  the  rifle  at  a  ready,  partly  shielded  from  sight 
by  the  trees.  On  he  came  until  within  about  twenty  rods, 
when  he  turned  slightly  to  the  right,  and  began  to  gradually 
climb  the  gentle  east  slope  of  the  ravine.  He  passed  within 
sixty  steps  without  noticing  me  at  all,  and  while  his  head 
was  down  smelling  at  the  track  I  fired,  the  ball  passing 
through  both  shoulders.  He  fell  after  running  a  dozen  rods. 
He  was  a  fair  sized  deer,  but  with  a  poor  set  of  horns.  Had 
I  been  walking,  instead  of  standing  perfectly  still,  it  is  prob- 
able that  he  would  have  seen  me  and  would  not  have  come 
within  easy  gun  shot. 

The  next  fall  I  took  another  hunt  in  the  Hills  in  com- 
pany with  John  Hunt,  Jep  Hopkins  and  Sam  Coe.  We 
hunted  well  up  in  the  mountains,  the  game  being  scarce 
lower  down.  It  was  a  fine  company  to  be  out  with — Hunt 
and  Hopkins  were  old  campaigners,  both  having  done  time 
in  the  federal  army  during  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  and 
Sam,  although  a  young  man,  was  old  in  experience  as  a 


212  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

hunter,  and  knew  every  part  of  the  Hills  well,  and  knew  the 
habits  of  the  game  and  where  to  find  it. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  hunt  with  old  soldiers.  They  know 
how  to  select  a  camp,  how  to  pitch  a  tent,  how  to  cook,  how 
to  build  a  camp  fire,  and  they  never  can  be  drained  dry  of 
good  stories ;  and  besides  they  are  always  ready  to  do  their 
part  of  the  camp  work.  I  submit  with  regret  to  the  fact 
that  never  again  can  it  be  possible  to  take  another  such  trip, 
with  such  companions. 

I  had  been  having  poor  luck- — all  the  others  were  kill- 
ing game — I  was  getting  none.  Either  luck  was  with  them 
and  against  me,  or  they  were  better  hunters  than  I — the 
latter  doubtless  being  the  true  reason.  But  if  one  sticks 
faithfully  to  his  job  in  hunting  his  luck  is  pretty  sure  to  turn. 
Before  my  luck  turned  I  lost  a  deer  by  a  very  curious  miss. 
I  saw  two  black  tail  deer  lying  down  within  easy  range,  one 
of  them  with  breast  toward  me,  and  just  at  the  edge  of  a 
thick  body  of  timber.  I  took  careful  aim  and  fired  expect- 
ing surely  to  strike  the  deer  in  the  center  of  the  breast.  To 
my  surprise  the  deer  sprang  up  at  a  bound  and  ran  into  the 
timber  unhurt,  and  it  was  not  possible  to  get  another  shot. 
On  going  to  the  place  where  the  deer  had  lain,  I  found  a 
small  gray  rock  of  the  same  color  as  the  deer,  imbedded  in 
the  ground  and  projecting  seven  or  eight  inches,  that  was 
exactly  in  range  with  my  aim,  and  not  more  than  six  inches 
from  the  deer's  breast.  This  had  caught  the  bullet,  and 
although  considerably  shattered  and  splintered  it  had  saved 
the  deer.  The  bullet  had  melted,  and  portions  of  it  were 
found  on  the  ground  near  the  rock. 

A  day  or  two  later  I  got  a  deer  by  waiting  for  it  to  come 
to  me.  There  were  six  or  eight  inches  of  snow  on  the 
ground,  which  had  thawed  some  and  then  had  frozen,  form- 
ing a  crust  that  made  noisy  walking.  This  made  it  neces- 
sary to  go  carefully,  and  to  stop  frequently  to  look  and  list- 
en.   I  had  just  come  to  the  edge  of  a  little  park  of  four  or 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  213 

five  acres,  in  which  there  was  not  a  tree,  but  which  was 
surrounded  by  timber,  some  of  it  being  quite  dense.  I  had 
stopped  perhaps  five  minutes  to  look  around,  and  was  about 
to  go  on  again  when  I  heard  a  bunch  of  deer  approaching 
on  the  run.  They  would  run  for  a  little  way,  then  stop  and 
listen  then  run  again.  They  kept  coming  nearer,  making  a 
good  deal  of  noise  in  breaking  through  the  crust.  They  saw 
me  as  soon  as  I  saw  them  and  stopped  in  the  edge  of  the 
timber  where  there  was  no  chance  for  a  fair  shot.  However, 
I  took  my  chance  and  missed.  They  scattered  somewhat, 
but  three  or  four  ran  through  an  open  place  in  the  trees, 
among  them  a  large  doe  at  which  I  fired.  I  did  not  know 
whether  she  was  hit  or  not,  but  following  the  tracks  soon 
found  blood,  and  within  forty  rods  I  found  her  lying  dead. 
I  do  not  know  how  many  deer  there  were  in  the  herd,  but 
certainly  there  were  a  dozen  or  more. 

A  day  or  two  later  I  was  standing  in  an  open  place, 
looking  and  listening,  when  I  heard  three  or  four  shots  not 
very  far  away.  I  was  in  a  little  valley,  probably  twenty  rods 
wide,  with  steep  rocky  ledges  on  either  side.  If  these  shots 
were  at  deer,  and  any  of  the  deer  came  my  way,  it  was  pretty 
certain  that  they  would  pass  through  this  valley.  I  there- 
fore, as  quickly  as  possible,  climbed  up  among  the  rocks  on 
one  side  and  getting  ready,  waited.  I  did  not  have  to  wait 
long  before  two  black  tail  does  came  through  the  gap  on  the 
run,  passing  within  seventy-five  steps  of  where  I  was  hid- 
den.   I  got  one  at  a  single  shot,  but  missed  the  other. 

This  was  on  Thanksgiving  day,,  and  our  outfit  was 
moving  camp.  We  made  the  new  camp  within  a  mile  of  the 
spot  where  the  deer  was  killed,  and  there  we  cooked  and 
ate  our  Thanksgiving  dinner.  Our  camp  was  in  a  very 
thick  grove  of  pine  timber,  plenty  of  dry  wood  all  around, 
a  fine  spring  near  by,  an  open  glade  close  at  hand  that  fur- 
nished grass  for  the  horses,  although  they  had  to  paw  the 
snow  away  to  get  to  the  grass,  flour  and  baking  powder  for 


214  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  pancakes,  abundance  of  fat  fresh  venison,  bread,  butter, 
cake  and  special  nick-nacks  put  up  by  Mrs.  Coe  for  Thanks- 
giving, coffee,  sugar  and  syrup,  weather  frosty  but  not  too 
cold,  good,  jolly,  agreeable  companions — what  could  have 
been  better  or  more  to  our  liking?  We  can  all  look  back 
to  a  bright  spot  here  and  there  in  our  lives — this  is  one  in 
mine. 

The  next  day  I  got  another  deer  by  waiting  for  him. 
I  first  saw  him  about  half  a  mile  away  coming  toward  me  in 
a  wide  open  glade  that  had  a  little  stream  winding  along 
down  its  center,  and  willows  growing  along  the  banks  of 
the  stream.  It  was  destitute  of  trees  or  brush,  excepting 
the  fringe  of  willows.  Back  at  some  distance  there  was 
timber,  some  of  which  had  been  killed  by  fire,  the  blackened 
stumps  still  standing.  The  deer  came  on  directly  towards 
me,  and  acting  exactly  like  the  first  one  described  in  this 
article.  He  was  evidently  following  the  track  of  another 
deer.  I  took  position  among  some  stumps  and  fallen  trees, 
on  the  west  side  of  the  glade,  thinking  he  would  follow  the 
open  glade,  and  so  come  within  reach.  He  did  not  do  this, 
however,  but  turned  short  off  to  the  west  when  about  sixty 
rods  away.  However,  he  kept  coming  a  little  nearer,  and 
when  about  forty  rods  off,  as  I  judged  the  distance,  I  fired, 
but  shot  under.  He  gave  two  or  three  jumps  and  stopped 
perfectly  still.  This  gave  a  better  chance,  and  aiming  high 
so  as  not  to  undershoot  I  fired,  the  ball  going  through  the 
lungs.  He  ran  some  distance,  at  least  forty  rods,  before  he 
fell.  He  was  a  white  tail  of  good  size  with  a  fine  set  of 
horns.  I  got  one  more  deer  during  the  trip,  making  four  in 
all,  three  of  them  by  waiting  for  them  to  come  and  be  shot. 
I  look  back  to  this  hunting  trip  with  feelings  of  unmixed 
pleasure. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  215 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Hunting  Stories — Hunting  Without  a  Gun. 

I  cannot  tell  which  affords  the  greater  pleasure,  hunt- 
ing with  or  without  a  gun.  It  has  fallen  to  my  lot  to  do 
quite  a  bit  of  both  kinds.  My  hunting  without  a  gun  has 
been  done  either  for  the  purpose  of  capturing  young  animals, 
or  to  watch  the  wild  animals  in  their  native  haunts  for  the 
purpose  of  studying  their  habits.  This  country  in  the  early 
days  afforded  ample  opportunity  to  those  disposed  to  hunt 
without  a  gun  for  either  of  the  above  purposes.  When  one 
hunts  for  the  purpose  of  studying  the  habits  of  the  wild  ani- 
mals, if  he  is  careful  in  his  observations,  he  will  be  pretty 
apt  to  have  some  of  his  early  opinions  that  were  formed  from 
reading  works  of  travel,  or  even  works  on  natural  history 
completely  upset,  as  the  result  of  what  he  learns  from  actual 
personal  observation. 

For  example:  Sixty  years  ago  almost  every  man  and 
woman  who  was  in  the  habit  of  reading,  believed  that  the 
prairie  dogs,  rattlesnakes  and  burrowing  owls  all  lived 
amicably  together  as  one  family  in  the  same  burrow.  Some 
people  even  today  believe  it,  because  perhaps,  that  they  have 
read  it  in  some  old  book,  although  the  silly  idea  has  been 
long  since  disproved  by  careful  investigation.  Many  years 
ago  I  believed  it  myself,  because  I  had  read  it  many  times, 
and  supposed  it  must  be  so,  of  course.  I  have  found  out, 
that  the  rattlesnakes  occupy  only  the  old  deserted  portions 
of  the  prairie  dog  towns — the  owls  occupy  other  deserted 
parts,  and  the  prairie  dogs  live  by  themselves  in  their  own 
community.  After  a  time  the  prairie  dogs  ruin  and  kill  out 
the  grass  within  the  limits  of  their  villages,  making  it  nec- 
essary to  spread  out  in  other  directions.  I  have  seen  de- 
serted parts  of  a  prairie  dog  town  that  covered  hundreds  of 


216  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

acres  of  land,  and  here  is  where  the  rattlesnakes  are  most 
likely  to  be  found,  and  it  is  also  where  they  den  up  for  the 
winter.  In  such  a  place  also  they  were  found,  formerly  in 
great  numbers  when  going  to  their  deris  in  the  fall,  or  when 
coming  out  in  the  spring,  but  they  were  not  so  numerous 
there  throughout  the  summer.  Although  I  have  seen  hun- 
dreds of  prairie  dog  towns,  I  have  never  yet  seen  a  rattle- 
snake nor  a  burrowing  owl  within  the  limits  of  the  inhabited 
part  of  such  a  town,  but  many  times  I  have  found  both  in 
the  old  deserted  dog  towns.  I  have  also  killed  a  good  many 
rattlesnakes  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  an  inhabited 
dog  town,  but  as  stated  before  never  within  its  limits. 

I  have  also  read  that  a  buck  antelope  sheds  his  horns 
annually  exactly  like  a  deer  or  elk,  and  also  that  he  does  not 
shed  his  horns  at  all.  Of  course  I  knew  not  which  state- 
ment to  believe  until  I  found  out  from  experience  that  neith- 
er was  correct.  The  shedding  process  takes  place  all  right 
in  the  spring  of  the  year,  but,  unHke  the  process  in  other 
animals,  the  new  horn  grows  inside  the  old  one,  and  pushes 
the  old  shell  off  as  explained  in  a  previous  chapter.  These 
statements  go  to  prove  the  value  of  the  old  adage,  which 
might  be  paraphrased  to  read  thus:  "An  ounce  of  exper- 
ience is  worth  a  pound  of  conjecture." 

The  most  of  my  hunting  without  a  gun  has  been  done 
when  tracing  lines  with  a  compass,  or  when  looking  the 
country  over  for  a  tract  of  good  government  land,  and  some- 
times also  when  carrying  a  gun  when  there  was  no  need  of 
killing  game. 

I  was  tracing  a  section  line  with  my  compass — it  was 
the  last  of  May  or  the  first  of  June — the  country  was  all  new, 
the  prairie  being  covered  with  a  bright  green  carpet  of  grass, 
purple  here  and  there  with  blossoms  of  the  wild  pea  and 
patches  of  spider  lilies,  and  the  air  fragrant  with  the  blos- 
soms of  the  wild  prairie  rose.  My  work,  although  import- 
ant, was  light  and  congenial,  and  I  was  happy  or  glad,  prob- 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  217 

ably  both.  Coming  to  the  brow  of  a  small  hill  that  sloped 
gently  to  a  little  valley  before  me,  I  placed  the  tripod  in 
position,  adjusted  the  levels,  reversed  the  instrument  so  as 
to  get  a  back  sight  in  order  to  correct  my  bearings,  then 
taking  a  peep  ahead  upon  the  line  I  was  tracing  I  noticed 
for  the  first  time  a  doe  antelope  not  more  than  thirty  steps 
away,  and  directly  upon  the  Hne  I  was  following.  Probably 
she  had  been  lying  down  in  the  grass  and  did  not  get  up  until 
I  had  adjusted  the  compass.  She  turned  her  head  and  looked 
at  me,  and  then  instantly  looked  in  another  direction  and 
began  to  stamp  one  of  her  fore  feet.  Her  actions  puzzled 
me,  for  I  had  never  seen  an3^thing  just  like  it  before.  I 
watched  her  probably  five  minutes  before  I  could  make  out 
what  the  trouble  was.  Occasionally  she  would  look  toward 
me,  but  most  of  the  time  she  seemed  to  be  watching  some 
thing  beyond  in  the  grass.  Finally  I  saw  something  moving 
in  the  grass,  in  the  direction  she  was  looking,  but  could  not 
tell  what  it  was.  Leaving  the  compass  I  approached  the 
antelope,  but  when  I  had  covered  about  half  the  distance 
between  us,  she  bounded  away,  but  did  not  go  far  before 
she  stopped  and  turned  to  look.  Where  she  had  been  stand- 
ing was  a  little  fawn  which  could  not  have  been  more  than 
half  an  hour  old  for  it  was  not  as  yet  fully  dried  off.  Beyond 
in  the  grass  in  the  direction  the  antelope  had  been  looking, 
a  skunk  was  at  work  digging  for  grubs.  I  undertook  to 
drive  him  away,  but  this  did  not  work  well.  However,  I 
succeeded  after  a  while  in  getting  him  to  chase  me,  finally 
leaving  him  twenty  or  more  rods  away  from  the  young  an- 
telope. The  old  one  did  not  go  back  to  her  fawn  again  while 
I  was  in  sight,  but  watched  from  the  top  of  a  little  knoll  not 
far  away.  Evidently  she  feared  the  skunk  more  than  she 
feared  me.  I  have  been  told  by  old  plainsmen  that  an  ante- 
lope will  kill  a  rattlesnake  by  jumping  on  it  with  its  fore 
feet.  I  do  not  know  whether  this  is  true  or  not,  but  I  do 
believe,  judging  from  the  actions  of  this  antelope,  that  it 
would  have  attacked  the  skunk  had  it  approached  the  fawn. 


218  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

Two  or  three  times  I  tried  to  capture  young  antelope 
by  watching  with  a  field  glass  from  the  top  of  a  hill  that 
commanded  a  good  view  in  all  directions.  I  had  been  told 
by  a  man  who  tried  the  plan,  that  by  watching  the  old  does 
when  they  visit  their  young,  the  place  where  the  young  ones 
are  hidden  can  thus  be  found.  The  young  of  the  deer,  ante- 
lope and  elk  do  not  follow  the  mother  at  first,  but  lie  hidden 
most  of  the  time  for  several  days.  The  young  antelope  lie 
out  in  the  open  prairie,  partly  screened  by  the  grass,  but 
deer  and  elk  hide  their  fawns  in  thickets  of  brush,  or  in  tall 
weeds  or  grass.  As  stated  I  tried  two  or  three  times  to  find 
where  the  young  antelope  were  by  watching  the  old  ones. 
I  could  see  antelope  all  the  time  from  my  position,  gener- 
ally in  five  or  six  different  places,  many  of  them  being  does, 
but  I  did  not  succeed  in  seeing  a  single  one  when  in  the  act 
of  visiting  the  young  ones.  It  was  too  tedious  a  process, 
and  after  watching  for  two  or  three  hours  each  time,  I  gave 
it  up.  It  is  probable  that  these  visits  to  their  young  are 
made  both  late  in  the  afternoon  and  early  in  the  morning. 
In  fact  there  is  plenty  of  evidence  that  such  is  the  case.  I 
have  found  young  antelope  several  times,  but  always  when 
accidentally  I  came  upon  them  as  in  the  case  related  above. 

At  one  time  in  Greeley  county  I  saw  four  or  five  deer 
feeding  in  a  little  narrow  valley  not  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away.  It  was  early  in  the  spring  and  the  grass 
was  just  beginning  to  be  green,  the  prairie  having  been 
burned  over  the  previous  fall.  They  were  near  a  steep  bank 
along  which  grew  clumps  of  box  elder,  and  masses  of  choke 
cherry  bushes.  I  thought  I  would  see  how  close  I  could 
approach  without  frightening  them.  By  going  around  some 
distance  I  could  walk  to  within  a  dozen  rods  of  them,  and 
still  keep  out  of  sight,  and  then  could  crawl  right  up  to  the 
edge  of  the  steep  bank.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  within 
twenty  steps  of  them  and  from  my  position,  lying  flat  on 
the  ground,  could  see  them  plainly  through  the  screen    of 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  219 

bushes.  It  was  curious  to  see  how  very  careful  and  watch- 
ful they  were  all  the  time.  They  were  all  feeding,  but  some 
of  them  had  their  heads  up  in  the  air  and  were  looking 
around  all  the  time.  One  would  put  its  head  down,  take 
three  or  four  bites  of  grass  and  then  raise  its  head  and  look 
about.  All  at  once  an  old  doe  nearest  to  me  gave  a  sort  of 
whistle,  or  signal  of  alarm  and  away  they  went,  turning  to 
look  back  after  they  had  gone  about  thirty  rods,  then  again 
raising  their  white  tails  they  went  over  the  hill  out  of  sight. 
The  most  striking  feature  of  the  actions  of  the  deer,  elk 
and  antelope  is  their  extreme  watchfulness.  They  are  on 
the  lookout  for  danger  all  the  time. 

Once  when  tracing  a  section  line  I  came  upon  a  herd 
of  black  tail  deer  on  a  hillside.  There  were  thirteen  of  them 
in  sight,  all  lying  down  in  the  sunshine — whether  there  were 
more  than  that  number  in  the  drove  or  not  I  do  not  know, 
as  I  did  not  disturb  them.  I  watched  them  for  some  time, 
for  it  was  a  very  interesting  sight.  Among  them  was  a  big 
buck  with  wide  spreading  antlers.  The  place  where  they 
were  lying  was  well  chosen  for  safety,  because  the  lay  of 
the  land,  and  the  direction  of  the  wind  were  such  that  it 
would  not  have  been  easy  for  a  hunter  to  approach  within 
shooting  distance  without  being  discovered. 

It  is  remarkable  how  sagacious  both  the  elk  and  black 
tail  deer  are  in  selecting  a  safe  place  to  lie  down  to  rest. 
They  do  not  seek  to  hide  themselves  in  dense  cover  as  do 
white  tail  deer,  but  they  lie  out  in  the  open  where  the  sur- 
roundings are  such  that  they  can  either  see  or  smell  an 
approaching  enemy;  especially  is  this  true  of  the  elk,  and 
to  quite  an  extent  of  black  tail  deer.  If  the  wind  changes 
a  herd  of  elk  will  immediately  begin  to  sniff  the  air,  and  will 
at  once  change  their  position  for  a  safer  one.  This  I  saw 
a  herd  of  elk  do  at  one  time  in  southern  Holt  county.  The 
instant  the  wind  shifted,  up  went  their  noses  into  the  air, 
and  they  at  once  began  to  move  off. 


220  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

It  is  easy  to  get  a  chance  to  watch  elk  and  black  tail 
deer  while  they  are  lying  down,  on  account  of  their  habit 
of  lying  in  the  open,  but  the  opposite  is  true  of  white  tail 
deer  because  of  their  habit  of  hiding.  It  is  not  often  one 
can  get  a  good  view  of  a  white  tail  deer,  excepting  when 
they  are  feeding  or  traveling. 

The  coyote  is  often  called  in  books  the  barking  wolf, 
because  its  bark  resembles  somewhat  the  barking  of  a  small 
dog.  One  time  when  making  hay,  I  laid  aside  the  pitchfork 
and  went  to  a  nearby  spring  for  a  drink  of  cold  water.  Hav- 
ing satisfied  my  thirst,  I  lay  down  for  a  Httle  while  under 
a  bunch  of  tall  sunflowers  that  afforded  some  shade  from 
the  hot  August  sun.  While  lying  in  the  shade,  well  screened 
from  sight,  I  saw  a  coyote  coming  toward  me,  and  it  proved 
to  be  the  best  chance  ever  offered  me  to  watch  one  unob- 
served. When  first  seen  he  was  about  eighty  rods  away,  but 
he  kept  gradually  coming  nearer  until  finally  he  passed 
within  ten  rods  of  where  I  was  lying  without  noticing  me 
at  all.  A  coyote  is  as  sharp  of  sight  as  any  animal  that  I 
know  of,  not  even  excepting  the  antelope,  but  as  I  was  pretty 
well  hidden  and  scarcely  moved  at  all,  he  did  not  see  me. 
His  actions  in  every  respect  were  like  those  of  a  dog.  When 
not  more  than  a  dozen  rods  away  he  sat  down  upon  his 
haunches,  and  pointing  his  nose  up  toward  the  sky  gave  a 
series  of  coyote  yip,  yip,  yips,  which  is  familiar  to  almost 
all  the  rural  inhabitants  of  Nebraska. 

The  raccoon  of  Nebraska  is  an  animal  found  almost 
exclusively  along  the  streams  where  there  is  more  or  less 
timber.  I  have  come  across  them  several  times,  either  when 
hunting  or  when  tracing  lines,  and  always  they  were  on  or 
near  the  bank  of  a  stream  where  there  was  more  or  less 
timber.  Once  I  saw  one  in  the  bottom  of  a  little  creek  where 
there  were  several  springs  coming  out  from  under  a  bank 
that  was  thickly  covered  with  trees  and  brush.  I  lay  down 
on  top  of  the  bank  twenty  or  thirty  feet  above  him  and  where 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  221 

it  was  plain  to  see  what  he  was  about,  and  watched  him  for 
some  time.  He  was  digging  in  the  black  mud  just  inside 
and  at  the  border  of  the  little  rivulets  made  by  the  springs, 
and  I  think  was  eating  the  roots  of  some  kind  of  water 
plant.  At  any  rate  he  was  making  his  dinner  off  something 
he  found  in  the  mud.  After  watching  him  for  a  time  I 
threw  down  some  little  pieces  of  earth,  which  struck  in  the 
water  near  him.  He  stopped  and  looked  about  for  half  a 
minute  then  went  on  with  his  work  again.  Finally  I  threw 
down  a  larger  piece,  which  startled  him  so  much  that  he 
ran  into  the  brush  out  of  sight. 

The  red  fox  has  always  been  rare  here  but  in  the  earl\ 
days  one  was  sometimes  seen,  and  there  may  still  be  a  few 
left  in  the  wooded  belts  bordering  the  Missouri  and  Niobra- 
ra rivers,  for  it  is  a  hard  animal  to  exterminate.  I  have 
only  seen  one  live  one  west  of  the  Missouri  river,  and  that 
was  in  the  Black  Hills.  I  was  trailing  a  deer  through  a 
tract  of  country  where  there  was  a  good  deal  of  fallen  tim- 
ber. The  track  was  winding  about  in  a  very  crooked  way, 
indicating  that  the  deer  was  looking  for  a  good  place  to  lie 
down,  consequently  I  was  going  very  slowly,  keeping  a  sharp 
lookout  ahead.  All  at  once  I  saw  a  red  fox,  standing  still, 
not  more  than  a  dozen  rods  ahead,  and  looking  at  me.  I 
put  the  rifle  to  my  shoulder — it  was  already  cocked — and 
drew  a  bead  at  his  head,  and  then  put  down  the  gun — I  was 
hunting  deer,  not  foxes.  I  watched  him  a  moment  and  then 
took  the  track  again  which  led  directly  toward  the  fox.  As 
I  started  toward  him  he  trotted  on  again,  but  getting  a  little 
way  ahead  stopped  and  waited,  this  time  turning  broadside 
and  looking  back.  Again  I  took  aim,  and  again  neglected 
to  shoot.  I  do  not  remember  how  many  times  he  turned  to 
look  at  me  but  certainly  three  or  four.  He  was  very  tame, 
and  very  impudent.  I  know  of  only  two  animals  that  have 
as  much  impudence  as  a  red  fox,  they  are  the  weasel  and 
the  chicaree  or  red  squirrel.     The  fox  soon  turned  off  to 


222  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  right,  and  within  two  hundred  steps  I  found  the  deer, 
but  only  saw  him  bounding  away  among  the  trees,  giving 
no  chance  to  shoot.    Then  I  wished  I  had  saved  the  fox  skin. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  223 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


Hunting  Stories — My  Last  Big  Hunt  in  Wheeler  and  Gar- 
field Counties. 

In  the  summer  of  1868  antelope  were  often  seen  on  the 
tableland  between  Maple  and  Pebble  creeks  in  Dodge  coun- 
ty, and  sometimes  even  they  were  found  between  Maple 
creek  and  the  Platte  river  within  a  dozen  miles  of  Fremont. 
That  summer  I  shot  two  antelope  north  of  Maple  creek  and 
not  more  than  four  miles  south  of  the  place  where  Scrib- 
ner  now  stands.  In  the  winter  of  1868  quite  a  good  many 
white  tail  deer  lived  along  the  Platte  river  and  Maple  creek 
in  Dodge  county,  hiding  through  the  day  time  in  the  weedy 
ravines  that  either  make  south  to  the  Platte  or  north  to 
Maple  creek.  Two  or  three  times  I  went  with  other  men 
after  them,  and  every  time  we  saw  from  two  or  three  up 
to  half  a  dozen,  but  they  were  wild  and  cautious,  and  we 
never  even  got  a  shot. 

In  May  1869  I  came  with  S.  S.  King  to  what  is  now 
Antelope  county  looking  for  land.  We  started  from  Pebble 
creek  within  a  mile  of  where  Scribner  now  is ;  following  the 
creek  for  ten  or  twelve  miles,  thence  going  west  over  the 
divide  to  Maple  creek,  striking  it  in  the  northeastern  part 
of  Colfax  county,  thence  following  a  branch  of  Maple  creek 
well  up  into  Stanton  county,  thence  northwest  over  the  divide 
and  down  into  the  Elkhorn  valley,  coming  to  the  Elkhorn 
river  just  below  the  mouth  of  Union  creek.  The  country 
was  unsettled,  and  we  saw  white  tail  deer  very  often,  and 
antelope  everywhere.  We  camped  on  Cedar  creek  in  the 
southern  part  of  Oakdale  township  about  a  week,  exploring 
the  country  and  running  lines.  We  went  all  over  Cedar 
township,  and  all  of  Oakdale  and  Burnett  townships  south 
of  the  Elkhorn,  and  the  north  tier  of  sections  in  Grant  town- 


224  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

ship.  We  saw  white  tail  deer  almost  every  day — they  were 
found  all  along  the  timbered  streams  and  weedy  ravines,  and 
often  were  seen  traveling  from  one  patch  of  timber  or  brush 
to  another.  Antelope  were  never  out  of  sight  when  we  were 
on  high  land  where  a  distant  view  could  be  had.  There  were 
numerous  signs  of  elk  in  several  places,  but  not  very  fresh. 
They  had  been  here  not  very  long  before  in  good  big  herds. 

From  the  time  of  the  first  settlement  of  Antelope  coun- 
ty in  the  early  fall  of  1868  up  to  the  month  of  April  1873, 
white  tail  deer  and  antelope  were  very  numerous.  There 
were  also  frequent  herds  of  elk,  and  in  the  rough  parts  of 
the  county  not  a  few  black  tail  deer.  The  April  storm  of 
1873 — the  most  destructive  storm  ever  known  since  the  set- 
tlement of  Nebraska  began — killed  off  thousands  of  the  wild 
animals.  They  were  never  as  numerous  afterward.  When 
the  storm  came  on,  I  was  at  work  in  Sherman  county  exam- 
ining and  appraising  land  for  the  B.  &  M.  railroad  com- 
pany. After  the  storm  was  over  so  I  could  get  to  work 
again,  I  found  one  elk,  and  scores  of  antelope  and  white  tail 
deer  that  were  killed  by  the  storm.  There  were  also  many 
birds  killed,  especially  robins,  larks,  blackbirds  and  prairie 
chickens.  I  do  not  believe  that  wild  animals  and  birds,  were 
ever  so  plentiful  again  in  Nebraska  after  that  storm  as  they 
were  before.  However,  they  multiplied  to  quite  an  extent, 
so  that  by  the  middle  of  the  seventies  there  were  a  great 
many  elk  and  deer  of  both  kinds  in  the  counties  west  and 
southwest  of  Antelope  county,  but  antelope  gradually  became 
more  scarce,  apparently  having  forsaken  this  country  as  a 
breeding  ground. 

The  winter  of  1880  was  a  hard  one  on  the  wild  animals. 
It  began  about  the  middle  of  October,  snow-storm  succeed- 
ing snow-storm  throughout  the  winter  months,  and  leaving 
large  drifts  well  into  May.  That  winter  nearly  used  up 
what  were  left  of  the  deer.  There  were  almost  none  left  in 
Antelope  county  and  very  few  farther  west.    I  made  three 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  225 

hunting  trips  to  western  Wheeler  and  eastern  Garfield  coun- 
ties in  the  early  eighties  with  poor  success;  once  getting 
nothing  at  all,  and  only  three  white  tail  deer  each  of  the  other 
two  times,  with  not  a  sign  of  elk  in  a  country  where  a  few 
years  before  they  were  so  numerous. 

As  I  look  back  over  the  past  forty-eight  years,  there  is 
nothing  else  that  brings  such  a  feeling  of  regret — even  more 
than  regret — a  feeling  akin  to  sadness,  as  the  total  disap- 
pearance of  the  elk,  the  antelope  and  the  deer,  and  the  thin- 
ning out  almost  to  extinction  of  the  prairie  chickens,  the 
plover,  the  curlew  and  the  wild  geese. 

In  the  fall  of  1878  Mr.  D.  E.  Beckwith  and  myself  had 
made  arrangements  to  kill  a  load  of  game,  if  we  could,  for 
the  Columbus  market,  and  had  made  a  preliminary  scouting 
trip,  as  told  in  a  previous  chapter,  for  the  purpose  of  locat- 
ing a  good  place  for  the  coming  hunt.  My  youngest  son, 
DeWitt  C.  Leach,  commonly  known  as  Deede  Leach,  and 
Mr.  Beckwith's  second  son,  Roy,  were  to  go  with  us.  Deede 
and  Roy  were  known  as  the  twins,  since  as  it  happened,  they 
were  both  born  on  the  same  day.  They  were  great  chums, 
and,  if  permitted,  were  always  together.  It  was  to  be  their 
first  regular  hunting  trip,  and  judging  from  remarks  they 
still  are  in  the  habit  of  making,  it  has  so  far  been  the  most 
important  event  of  their  lives.  When  we  were  about  ready 
to  start  Mr.  Beckwith  sent  word  that  owing  to  sickness  in 
his  family,  he  would  have  to  delay  starting,  but  for  us  to 
go  on,  and  he  and  Roy  would  join  us  as  soon  as  his  folks 
were  better. 

It  was  well  along  in  November  when  the  start  was  made 
but  the  weather  was  mild,  and  there  had  been  but  very  little 
snow.  We  took  along  our  little  tepee,  made  of  an  old  rag 
carpet  for  a  tent,  plenty  of  oats  and  a  pair  of  blankets  for  the 
horses,  and  provisions  for  ourselves  for  a  two  weeks'  trip. 
Of  course  we  expected  to  be  well  supplied  with  venison  after 


226  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

two  or  three  days.  We  made  camp  the  second  night  at  the 
Tumbledumps  in  the  western  part  of  Wheeler  county,  and 
here  we  expected  to  find  game. 

My  rifle  on  this  occasion  was  a  Sharps  carbine  which 
has  been  mentioned  often  heretofore,  while  Deede  carried 
a  Smith  and  Wesson  rifle  using  a  32-short  cartridge.  It 
was  an  accurate,  spiteful  Httle  gun,  but  was  short  range. 

While  in  camp  at  the  Tumbledumps  we  sighted  a  herd 
of  elk  and  went  after  them,  with  the  result  that  after  follow- 
ing them  all  day  and  getting  two  or  three  shots,  all  of  which 
were  misses,  we  drove  them  out  of  that  part  of  the  country. 
Going  back  to  camp  and  targeting  my  rifle  I  found  the  front 
sight  was  out  of  place,  and  that  this  had  caused  the  bad 
shooting.  Leaving  the  elk,  with  the  hope  of  finding  them 
again  on  our  way  back,  we  went  on  west  into  the  big  rough 
sand  hills  between  the  head  of  Beaver  creek  and  the  Cedar 
river,  where  we  were  to  make  our  permanent  hunting  camp. 
When  moving  camp  Deede  drove  the  team  while  I  went 
ahead  to  act  as  pilot  and  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  game, 
as  we  were  likely  to  come  onto  black  tail  deer  at  any  time 
after  reaching  the  rough  hills.  We  did  find  game  even 
sooner  than  we  expected.  I  kept  about  twenty  rods  ahead 
of  the  team,  traveling  slowly  and  keeping  a  sharp  lookout 
ahead,  and  on  rising  a  hill  being  very  careful  to  only  show 
my  head  until  the  country  had  been  well  looked  over.  On 
coming  to  the  top  of  a  ridge  I  saw  two  black  tail  does,  lying 
down  beyond  a  narrow  valley  and  near  the  top  of  the  next 
ridge.  Motioning  for  the  team  to  stop,  I  got  down  out  of 
sight  and  waited  for  Deede  to  come  up.  It  was  safe  to  leave 
the  team  by  setting  the  brake,  and  fastening  the  lines.  We 
crawled  as  near  as  possible  and  then  made  ready  to  shoot. 
The  deer  had  seen  us  and  were  standing  up  looking  our  way, 
but  evidently  could  not  make  out  what  we  were.  At  the 
count  of  three  we  fired,  my  deer  falling  after  a  jump  or  two, 
but  the  distance  was  too  great  for  the  little  gun,  and  the  shot 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  227 

fell  short.  The  second  deer  bounded  away,  but  I  felt  sure 
it  would  soon  stop  for  its  mate,  and  I  waited,  as  the  dis- 
tance was  too  far  to  risk  a  running  shot.  It  did  stop,  and 
turned  broadside  to  look  back.  Aiming  at  the  very  upper 
tip  of  the  shoulders  I  fired  and  the  deer  fell,  but  recovering 
it  hobbled  over  the  ridge  out  of  sight.  It  was  well  that  the 
aim  was  high,  for  the  ball  fell  so  that  it  broke  both  fore  legs 
above  the  knees.  Deede  soon  found  and  gave  it  a  final  shot 
while  I  dressed  the  first  deer.  These  deer  were  both  young, 
probably  a  year  old  the  previous  spring,  and  were  in  fine 
condition.  Bringing  up  the  team  we  made  camp  here  for 
the  remainder  of  the  day  and  the  following  night. 

After  taking  care  of  the  team  and  eating  dinner  we 
went  northwest  into  the  hills  looking  for  a  place  for  a  per- 
manent camp.  We  had  gone  probably  two  miles  and  were 
traveling  across  a  sand  hill  valley  that  was  perhaps  forty 
rods  wide,  bounded  by  ridges  on  either  side,  when  we  saw 
two  white  tail  deer  coming  down  the  valley  and  not  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  The  grass  was  high  afford- 
ing a  good  screen  and  dropping  on  hands  and  knees  we  made 
for  a  little  knoll  that  was  four  or  five  feet  high  behind  which 
we  lay  and  waited  for  the  deer.  It  was  always  understood 
that  when  two  were  hunting  together  the  one  on  the  right 
should  shoot  at  the  right  hand  deer,  and  the  one  on  the  left 
should  take  the  left  hand  one  at  the  count  of  three.  When 
the  count  was  made  the  two  deer  were  nearly  opposite  each 
other,  the  right  hand  one  having  its  head  down  feeding. 
We  both  fired,  my  shot  going  through  the  shoulders  and 
lungs  of  the  deer  aimed  at,  and  Deede's  shot  breaking  the 
neck  of  his  deer,  and  going  on  it  passed  through  the  heart 
of  the  second  deer,  lodging  in  the  skin  on  the  further  side 
of  the  body.  If  my  gun  had  missed  fire,  Deede's  shot  would 
have  killed  both  deer.  These  two  deer  were  both  white  tail 
does,  one  large,  and  the  other  a  yearling. 


228  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

We  found  a  fine  place  to  camp  in  an  old  blowout  com- 
pletely grassed  over,  and  where  in  previous  years  the  wind 
had  so  shaped  the  sand  hills  when  in  a  drifting  condition  as 
to  form  a  perfect  shelter  from  the  wind.  Nearby  was  a 
pond  of  water,  and  a  dead  cottonwood  tree,  and  plenty  of 
red  roots  for  fuel. 

The  next  day  we  moved  to  our  new  camping  ground, 
brought  in  the  game,  pitched  the  tent,  hauled  up  a  wagon 
box  full  of  red  roots,  and  planted  a  pole  with  a  grain  sack 
for  a  signal  on  a  high  sand  hill  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  camp,  for  our  little  tepee  was  completely  hidden  from 
sight  in  the  old  blowout. 

The  next  day  we  tried  again  for  the  elk,  and  we  found 
them  all  right,  but  all  the  good  it  did  us  was  the  gaining 
of  a  little  new  experience.  They  were  on  a  great  flat  that 
was  covered  with  big  grass.  The  only  way  to  get  near  them 
was  to  crawl  on  hands  and  knees  for  nearly  or  quite  half 
a  mile.  The  wind,  if  there  was  any,  was  baffling.  Time 
and  again  I  tried  it  by  gathering  a  handful  of  fuzzy  grass 
seeds,  letting  them  sift  through  the  fingers  and  watch  to  see 
which  way  they  drifted.  What  wind  there  was  seemed  to 
come  from  the  southeast.  The  elk  were  about  a  mile  east 
of  us.  We  therefore  worked  around  further  north  and  ap- 
proached from  the  northwest.  When  within  a  long  distance 
shot,  their  noses  suddenly  went  up  in  the  air — they  bunched 
together,  and  then  quickly  started  off  on  a  fast  gallop.  They 
had  not  seen  us,  but  rising  to  our  feet  we  found  that  the 
wind  had  changed  to  the  northwest  and  they  had  taken  our 
scent. 

It  was  night  when  we  got  to  camp,  and  it  was  turning 
cold.  However  we  did  not  mind  the  cold,  our  tepee  was 
warm,  the  horses  were  well  blanketed,  we  had  plenty  of 
fuel,  and  the  shelter  was  excellent.  We  gave  up  the  elk  for 
good,  and  the  next  day,  although  it  was  cold  and  somewhat 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  229 

stormy,  we  hunted  to  the  west  in  the  rough  hills  for  black 
tail  deer.  We  had  eaten  luncheon  and  were  working  slowly 
into  the  northwest  wind  when  we  came  in  sight  of  a  big 
drove  of  black  tail  deer.  I  do  not  know  how  many  there 
were,  as  we  did  not  count  them,  but  there  must  have  been 
eighteen  or  twenty.  They  were  at  rest  in  a  patch  of  rough, 
but  not  very  high  sand  hills,  some  of  them  standing  up,  but 
most  of  them  lying  down,  and  where  it  was  easy  to  get  a 
good,  but  not  a  close  shot.  Again  we  fired  at  the  count,  and 
again  Deede's  rifle  fell  short,  while  mine  brought  down  a 
buck  after  it  had  made  a  few  jumps.  They  seemed  confused, 
and  it  appeared  as  if  they  could  not  tell  from  which  way 
the  sound  came.  They  bunched  and  stood  still  and  looked 
for  an  instant  while  I  got  in  another  shot  which  brought 
down  another  buck.  However  he  did  not  fall  at  once  but 
ran  perhaps  a  dozen  rods  before  falling,  the  others  following 
him.  This  brought  them  somewhat  nearer  than  at  first,  and 
as  they  were  passing  -I  got  a  doe,  a  very  fine  large  one  at 
another  shot.  I  sent  the  fourth  shot  after  the  bunch  but 
missed.  It  was  late  when  we  got  to  camp,  and  we  came 
near  missing  it,  as  darkness  began  to  fall  when  we  were  a 
mile  away,  and  it  was  snowing.  This  made  seven  deer  that 
we  had  gotten  very  easily,  which  in  part  made  up  for  our 
bad  luck  with  the  elk. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Beckwith  and  Roy  came,  having 
located  the  camp  from  the  signal  on  the  hill.  It  took  them 
some  little  time  however  to  find  the  tent,  it  being  so  com- 
pletely hidden  by  the  nearby  hills.  The  two  boys  from  this 
time  on  hunted  in  company,  and  each  killed  his  deer,  while 
Dan  and  I  hunted  separately.  We  remained  at  this  camp 
until  we  had  killen  seven  more  deer,  making  fourteen  in  all, 
when  we  pulled  out  for  home. 

Our  tepee  was  too  small  for  all  to  sleep  in  comfortably, 
and  the  boys  with  the  spade  and  ax  made  a  dugout  in  the 
side  of  a  steep  little  hill,  covering  the  front  with  a  blanket, 

BANCROFT 


230  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

and  having  a  chimney  and  fire  place  in  the  back  end.  They 
killed  one  of  the  biggest,  fattest  badgers  that  I  ever  saw, 
and  warmed  and  lighted  the  dugout  with  a  fire  of  red  roots 
and  the  fat  of  the  badger,  a  piece  of  which  would  be  thrown 
into  the  fire  as  often  as  needed.  The  weather  became  very 
cold^the  mercury  going  down  to  twenty-two  minus  by  our 
thermometer  at  home ;  but  we  were  entirely  comfortable,  and 
were  living  high  all  the  time. 

On  our  way  back  we  camped  again  at  the  Tumble- 
dumps,  and  just  as  we  were  going  into  camp  here  came  our 
herd  of  elk  again  in  plain  sight  about  a  mile  to  the  south. 
Dan  and  I  went  after  them  while  the  boys  fixed  the  camp 
and  took  care  of  the  horses.  It  was  not  difficult  to  get  near 
enough  for  a  shot  for  the  reason  that  they  were  among  some 
low  sand  knolls,  behind  which  we  could  crawl  to  within  easy 
distance.  Dan  did  the  counting  because  he  had  lost  his  hear- 
ing in  the  army.  At  the  word  three  I  fired  and  got  a  cow 
elk — Dan  had  in  a  bad  cartridge  and  his  gun  snapped.  He 
has  never  recovered  from  the  disappointing  eflFects  of  that 
untoward  incident.  However  fourteen  deer  and  one  elk — 
it  was  enough. 

It  was  out"  farewell  hunt  for  elk  in  Nebraska. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  231 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Looking  Backward. 

No.  1. 

It  is  a  truth  that  "Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction."  I 
am  led  to  this  conclusion  by  looking  backward  less  than  two 
and  a  half  generations.  Most  of  the  great  inventions  that 
have  placed  the  progressive  people  of  the  world  away  ahead 
of  anything  thought  of,  or  dreamed  of  three  generations 
ago,  are  the  results  of  investigation  and  research  of  the  last 
eighty  years,  and  chiefly  also  of  the  last  forty  years.  Fric- 
tion matches  were  invented  in  1829,  and  the  machinery  for 
making  them  was  patented  in  1842,  but  they  did  not  come 
into  general  use  until  about  the  year  1846,  or  later.  The 
knowledge  of  photography  as  it  now  exists  was  acquired 
in  1835,  but  it  was  not  used  extensively  until  about  fifteen 
years  later.  The  first  practical  mowing  machine  was  invent- 
ed in  1833,  but  it  was  twenty  years  before  mowing  machines 
and  reapers  came  into  general  use.  The  first  sewing  machine 
that  was  practical  and  successful  was  made  in  1846.  The 
first  ocean  steamship  to  carry  passengers  and  freight,  crossed 
the  Atlantic  in  1838.  The  first  practical  use  of  the  tele- 
graph was  in  1844,  when  the  line  from  Baltimore  to  Wash- 
ington was  opened  for  messages  on  May  27  of  that  year. 

Let  us  go  back  to  the  year  1840,  just  seventy-six  years 
from  the  present  time.  Here  is  an  inventory  of  some  of 
the  things  that  people  did  not  have  seventy-six  years  ago, 
although  the  list  is  by  no  means  complete.  There  are  many 
things  in  general  use  now  not  included  in  the  annexed  list, 
that  people  never  had  heard  of  seventy-six  years  ago.  Sev- 
enty-six years  ago  there  were  no  friction  matches,  sewing 
machines,  washing  machines,  mowing  machines,     reapers, 


232  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

threshing  machines,  gang  plows,  riding  plows,  modern  style 
harrows,  disk  harrows,  horse  rakes,  horse  cultivators,  kero- 
sene oil,  gasoline,  no  power  machines  of  any  kind  on  the 
farm,  no  electrical  appliances  of  any  kind,  no  telegraphs, 
telephones,  phonographs  nor  moving  pictures,  no  bicycles, 
automobiles,  sleeping  nor  dining  cars,  no  breech  loading 
guns  nor  fixed  ammunition,  no  photographs,  and  in  general 
no  knowledge  of  photography,  no  refined  sugar  excepting 
what  was  known  as  loaf  sugar,  no  evaporated  fruits,  no 
canned  fruits,  vegetables,  meats  or  fish,  no  packing  houses, 
no  cured  meat  products  excepting  those  cured  on  the  farm, 
no  creameries,  no  incubators,  no  cold  storage  plants.  In  the 
common  school  rooms  no  blackboards,  no  uniformity  of  text 
books,  no  systematic  arrangement  of  classes,  and  in  most 
states  no  county  superintendents.  No  anesthetics  for  use  in 
surgery,  and  no  knowledge  of  the  germ  theory  of  diseases. 
No  greenbacks  nor  national  currency.  No  monopolies,  no 
great  trusts  nor  combinations  to  control  capital  or  products. 

How  did  people  live?  That  is  just  what  this  article  is 
for — to  tell  how.  Let  us  see — we  go  back  seventy-six  years, 
at  which  time  I  was  six  years  old.  This  story  will  be  leaves 
torn  from  my  book  of  experience. 

In  this  narrative  many  things  well  remembered  will  be 
passed  over,  those  only  being  chosen  that  have  left  the 
deepest  impressions  on  the  tablet  of  the  memory,  or  that 
best  illustrate  the  manner  of  life  of  the  people  of  those 
times.  , 

My  father  had  an  old  flint  lock  musket,  of  the  pattern 
used  by  the  Americans  in  the  war  of  1812,  which  he  seemed 
to  think  a  great  deal  of,  probably  because  it  was  like  the  one 
he  had  used  while  serving  in  the  army.  It  was  my  delight 
to  play  with  the  gun,  and  in  this  my  father  indulged  me, 
allowing  me  to  pull  back  the  hammer,  and  watch  the  sparks 
as  the  flint  fastened  in  the  hammer  came  in  contact  with 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  233 

the  steel  pan  of  the  lock.  Most  of  the  guns  in  use  at  that 
time  were  of  the  flint  lock  pattern.  All  the  guns  in  use 
were  muzzle  loaders,  and  while  percussion  guns,  that  is  those 
fired  with  a  percussion  cap  or  percussion  pill  were  coming 
into  use,  the  flint  locks  were  preferred  by  many  because  of 
the  extra  cost  of  percussion  primers.  The  powder  was  car- 
ried in  a  horn,  and  the  bullets  or  shot  in  a  pouch,  none  of 
the  ammunition  being  fixed.  The  bullets  both  for  rifles 
and  muskets  were  round — elongated  bullets  never  having 
been  thought  of  at  that  time.  The  rifles  were  finely  sighted 
and  were  accurate  shooters,  but  were  of  short  range.  When 
I  was  sixteen  years  old  I  owned  my  first  g^n.  It  was  a 
single  barrel  shotgun,  with  a  long  barrel,  full  curly  maple 
stock,  and  pill  lock.  The  gun  was  loaded  by  pouring  the 
powder  into  the  muzzle  from  a  small  measure,  called  a 
charger,  on  top  of  the  powder  was  placed  a  wad  of  tow 
firmly  rammed  down  with  the  ramrod,  next  a  charge  of 
loose  shot,  also  measured,  and  lastly  another  wad  of  tow 
was  pressed  down  with  the  ramrod  to  hold  the  shot  in 
place.  The  hammer  had  a  long  point  of  steel,  not  unlike 
the  bill  of  a  woodpecker,  that  when  the  trigger  was  pulled, 
struck  into  a  little  hollow  at  the  base  of  the  barrel  contain- 
ing the  primer.  The  primer  was  a  little  pill  of  percussion 
about  the  size  of  a  radish  seed,  and  was  held  in  its  place  by  a 
slight  covering  of  tallow,  which  also  protected  it  from  damp- 
ness. I  have  used  many  shotguns  since,  but  never  handled 
a  better  one,  and  seldom  one  as  good,  but,  of  course,  it  was 
slow  work  reloading,  and  seldom  gave  a  chance  for  more 
than  one  shot,  and  besides  the  primer  was  liable  to  get  damp 
or  fall  out  and  therefore  the  gun  frequently  missed  fire.  But 
this  was  all  the  better  for  the  game  and  gave  it  a  chance  for 
life  that  is  now  denied  it  with  our  quick  firing,  long  range 
g^ns. 

The  dwelling  houses  and  school  houses  were  all  warmed 
by  the  open  fire-place.     I  never  saw  a  stove  until  I  was  ten 


234  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

years  old.  In  the  west  end  of  our  old  log  school  house  was 
a  fire  place  that  took  up  about  a  third  of  the  end  of  the 
building.  The  fire-place  and  hearth  were  of  stone,  the  hearth 
being  of  large  flat  stones,  and  the  chimney  built  of  small, 
split  oak  sticks,  heavily  plastered  on  the  inside  with  clay  to 
protect  the  wood  from  taking  fire.  The  old  school  house 
was  very  comfortable  and  the  great  open  fire,  built  of  logs 
four  feet  long  and  some  of  them  a  foot  in  diameter  was 
very  cheerful  and  pleasant.  When  the  new  red  school 
house  was  built,  a  box  stove  was  put  in  for  heating  and  we 
did  not  like  it,  at  least  for  a  time,  nearly  as  well  as  the  old 
fire-place.  It  is  hard  to  get  used  to  new  things — I  am  not 
sure  but  I  would  still  keep  the  old  fire-place  if  fuel  was  as 
plenty  and  easy  to  get  as  it  was  then. 

I  remember  well  what  branches  were  taught — reading, 
spelling,  writing,  arithmetic,  geography,  grammar,  and 
United  States  History.  The  history  was  taught  chiefly  as  a 
reading  lesson,  sometimes  the  class  being  questioned  as  to 
what  the  lesson  contained,  but  not  always.  The  writing 
books  were  made  at  home  of  cap  paper,  the  copies  being  writ- 
ten by  the  teacher,  and  as  a  rule  whenever  a  change  was 
made  in  teachers  there  was  a  change  in  the  style  of  penman- 
ship. The  pens  were  made  of  goose  quills  and  required 
mending,  or  "sharpening",  as  it  was  called,  at  the  beginning 
of  every  writing  lesson.  Most  of  the  teachers  were  poorly 
qualified  and  closely  followed  the  text  books  in  hearing 
recitations.  I  remember  one  teacher  who  required  us  to 
commit  to  memory  the  names  of  all  the  counties  in  all  the 
states,  and  to  give  the  names  of  all  the  rivers  from  Maine  to 
Louisiana,  telling  where  they  took  their  rise,  in  what  direc- 
tion they  flowed  and  where  they  emptied.  She  did  this  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  in  a  foot  note  it  stated  that  this 
part  could  be  omitted  if  the  teacher  thought  best.  Every 
rule  in  grammar  and  in  arithmetic  had  to  be  committed  to 
memory,  and  all  of  the  rules  for  spelling  had  to  be  studied 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  235 

and  the  most  important  ones  learned  by  heart.  I  have  won- 
dered if  the  practice  of  memorizing  so  extensively  practiced 
was  not  really  one  of  the  best  things  required  in  the  schools 
of  that  day.  The  spelling  lessons  were  required  to  be  stud- 
ied thoroughly,  and  every  two  weeks,  on  Saturday  afternoon 
(as  there  was  school  every  other  Saturday)  there  was  a 
spelling  match,  and  every  two  weeks  through  the  winter 
there  was  an  evening  spelling  school,  in  which  the  pupils 
of  other  districts  took  part.  These  spelling  matches  were 
the  life  of  the  schools  every  winter.  The  school  children  of 
those  days  were  better  in  spelling  than  those  of  the  present 
day — the  only  thing  in  which  they  excelled — in  all  other 
respects  our  modern  schools  are  away  in  advance  of  those 
of  the  olden  time. 

The  schools  were  supported  by  a  very  small  public 
school  fund  furnished  by  the  state  and  by  an  assessment 
made  upon  the  patrons  of  the  school  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  days  their  children  attended.  This  method  was 
an  extremely  bad  one,  as  many  poor  people  with  large  fam- 
ilies kept  their  children  at  home  because  they  were  not  able 
to  pay  the  "rate  bill,"  and  men  of  property  who  had  no  chil- 
dren were  exempt  from  school  tax.  Finally  when  a  law 
was  enacted  allowing  each  school  district  at  the  annual 
meeting  to  vote  a  tax  on  all  the  property  of  the  district  to 
support  a  free  school,  the  thing  was  fought  at  every  annual 
metting  by  many  of  the  voters  of  the  district,  and  especially 
by  those  having  large  property  interests  with  small  families 
or  no  family  at  all.  Such  men  are  not  all  dead  yet — we 
have  plenty  of  people  who  cannot  with  an  unbiased  mind 
look  into  any  question  that  aflfects  the  public  good,  because 
in  some  way  it  involves  their  own  pocketbook. 

As  stated  the  houses  were  all  warmed  by  the  open  fire 
place,  and  in  these  fire  places  all  the  cooking  was  done.  An 
iron  crane  was  fastened  in  one  side  of  the  fire  place,  from 


236  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

which  were  suspended  by  iron  hooks,  the  pots  and  kettles 
containing  the  things  to  be  boiled.  This  crane  could  be 
swung  out  away  from  the  fire,  the  vessel  suspended,  and 
then  swung  back  again  over  the  fire.  Baking  of  wheat 
bread,  pies  and  cakes  was  mostly  done  in  a  tin  reflector  called 
a  "baker."  This  was  open  faced  at  one  side  with  a  shelf 
in  the  center,  this  open  side  being  placed  to  the  fire,  the 
baking  was  done  by  the  bright  tin  reflecting,  both  from 
above  and  below,  the  rays  of  heat,  thus  throwing  them  upon 
the  bread.  Great  loaves  of  corn  bread,  or  of  corn  meal 
and  rye  flour  mixed,  were  baked  in  a  large  iron  kettle  with 
straight  or  slightly  flaring  sides,  having  a  cast  iron  cover 
with  a  phlange  to  hold  the  coals.  This  was  placed  on  the 
stone  hearth,  coals  put  underneath  and  on  top,  and  allowed 
to  remain  ten  or  twelve  hours,  cooking  slowly  with  very  little 
fire.  Some  farmers  had  an  oven  out  of  doors  built  of 
brick,  or  of  brick  and  stone,  with  an  iron  door,  and  a  little 
chimney.  At  baking  time  a  fire  was  built  in  this,  and  when 
sufficiently  heated  the  fire  was  all  raked  out,  the  bread 
pushed  in  with  a  flat  shovel,  the  door  and  chimney  closed 
and  the  baking  left  to  itself  until  done. 

Every  farmer  kept  sheep — there  were  no  exceptions, 
and  a  part  of  the  wool  was  worked  up  at  home,  and  many 
raised  flax  for  the  fibre,  prepared  it  for  spinning,  and  thus 
the  materials  were  at  hand  for  home  made  clothing.  Every 
family  had  its  large  spinning  wheel  for  wool,  and  many  had 
the  smaller  one  for  flax. 

Let  us  see — what  was  there  in  my  mother's  house  that 
we  do  not  find  in  the  houses  of  today?  There  was  the  little 
wheel,  worked  by  foot  power  similar  to  a  sewing  machine 
of  today,  with  its  distaff,  its  spindle  and  its  pliers,  on  which 
she  spun  the  linen  thread  to  be  woven  into  fine  linen  cloth 
for  the  table  and  other  uses,  and  also  the  coarser  linen  thread 
from  the  tow  or  coarser  fibre  which  would  later  be  made 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  237 

into  tow  cloth  for  summer  pants  for  the  boys ;  and  there  was 
the  big  wheel  for  spinning  woolen  yarn  for  socks,  stockings 
and  mittens,  and  for  cloth  for  winter  wear  both  for  the  boys 
and  for  the  girls;  and  there  was  the  quill  wheel,  the  reel 
and  the  swifts  and  the  warping  bars  and  the  cards  and  the 
loom  with  its  reeds,  its  shuttles  and  its  bobbins ;  and  out  in 
the  woodshed,  probably,  would  be  found  the  break,  the 
swingle,  and  the  hatchels  of  different  sizes  for  separating 
the  flax  fibre  from  the  woody  part.  Every  family  manufac- 
tured at  least  a  part  of  the  cloth  for  clothing  both  for  the 
old  and  young  members  of  the  family  and  all  the  woolen 
yarn  for  stockings  and  mittens.  There  was  not  a  loom  in 
every  family,  but  there  were  generally  two  or  three  in  ev- 
ery neighborhood.  Some  of  the  wool  raised  was  sold  on  the 
market,  but  much  of  it  was  worked  up  at  home.  There  were 
carding  machines  and  fulling  mills  run  by  water  power  in 
many  places,  where  the  wool  was  cleansed  and  carded  into 
rolls  and  sent  back  to  the  owner  to  be  spun  and  woven  and 
afterward  returned  to  the  mill  to  be  colored,  fulled,  dressed, 
pressed  and  finished  off,  ready  to  be  cut  and  made  into  gar- 
ments. 

The  tools  on  the  farm  were  a  cast  iron  plow  with  wood 
handles  and  beam,  a  harrow  shaped  like  a  letter  V  with  a 
cross  bar  connecting  the  sides  to  keep  it  from  spreading,  a 
cradle  for  cutting  grain,  scythes,  axes,  spades,  mattocks, 
hand  rakes  and  pitchforks  with  two  tines  only.  All  the  hay 
and  grain  was  cut  and  handled  by  hand,  and  most  of  it  was 
put  into  barns  instead  of  being  stacked  in  the  field.  As  far 
back  as  my  memory  goes  all  the  corn  was  hoed  by  hand, 
but  after  a  few  years  a  double  shovel  plow  was  invented,  to 
be  worked  with  one  horse,  men  with  hoes  following  it.  The 
first  threshing  machine  I  ever  saw  was  when  I  was  about 
twelve  years  old.  It  was  a  wonder  to  us  then,  and  it  would 
be  a  wonder  now.  There  was  no  separator — the  grain,  chaff 
and  straw  all  coming  out  at  one  place,  it  keeping  one  man 


238  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

busy  to  rake  away  the  straw  from  the  grain,  another  with 
rake  and  shovel  to  remove  the  grain  from  before  the  ma- 
chine, so  as  to  keep  the  space  in  front  clear.  Every  half 
hour  or  so  the  machine  would  stop,  to  give  the  men  a 
chance  to  "cave  up,"  as  it  was  called — that  is,  to  shovel 
the  grain  out  of  the  way  to  one  side.  After  the  threshing 
was  over  the  grain  was  run  through  a  fanning  mill  to  sep- 
arate it  from  the  chaff.  Some  of  the  threshing  was  done  in 
the  barn  in  the  winter  time  with  flails,  but  some  was  thresh- 
ed by  spreading  it  out  on  the  big  barn  floor,  turning  in  the 
horses  and  colts  loose,  and  keeping  them  going  around  in  a 
circle  until  the  work  was  done. 

Lumber  was  cheap.  Good  pine  lumber  was  worth  at 
the  saw  mills  $4.00  per  thousand,  while  timbers  for  the 
frame  and  stone  for  the  foundation  could  be  had  without 
cost  except  the  labor  of  getting  it  out.  Almost  every  farmer 
had  a  good  big  barn,  large  enough  for  his  hay  and  grain, 
and  open  sheds  for  his  cattle  and  sheep. 

Money  was  scarce,  and  much  of  the  farm  produce  could 
not  be  sold  for  cash,  but  could  generally  be  bartered  at  the 
stores,  or  exchanges  could  be  made  with  other  farmers  for 
something  needed.  Some  things  would  always  sell  for  cash, 
and  among  these  were  cranberries,  grass  and  clover  seed, 
hides  and  pelts,  furs,  beeswax  and  potash. 

Wages  were  low — when  I  got  old  enough  to  do  a  man's 
work  on  the  farm  I  was  paid  $10.00  per  month,  and  at 
teaching  school  I  received  $12.00  per  month  and  board, 
boarding  with  each  family  according  to  the  number  of 
children  sent  by  them  to  school. 

Were  the  people  happy  then  ?  Just  as  happy  as  now — 
there  were  not  so  many  unnecessary  things  lying  around  in 
sight  as  now,  therefore  they  did  not  want  as  much  as  people 
want  nowadays. 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  239 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Looking  Backward. 

No.  2. 

Someone  may  possibly  ask  this  question :  "As  you  had 
no  matches  in  those  days,  what  did  you  do  when  the  fire 
went  out?"  That  is  easy.  In  the  first  place  the  fire  did  not 
often  go  out,  in  the  summer,  and  never  in  the  winter.  In 
the  winter  time  there  was  always  a  good  fire  in  the  big,  old 
fire  place  through  the  day,  and  when  bed-time  came  a  lot  of 
live  coals  were  piled  up  against  the  backlog,  a  blazing  brand 
of  hardwood  placed  on  top  of  the  coals,  and  the  whole  cov- 
ered up  with  ashes.  In  the  morning  the  ashes  were  raked 
off,  the  red  hot  coals  opened  out,  the  brand  having  all  burned 
to  a  coal  by  that  time,  more  wood  was  piled  on,  the  finest 
and  dryest  being  placed  next  to  the  coals,  and  in  ten  min- 
utes there  was  a  roaring  big  fire  in  the  fire  place,  warmmg 
and  lighting  up  the  whole  room,  and  breakfast  was  under 
way.  Oh !  it  makes  me  homesick  even  now  when  I  think  of 
and  write  about  these  things.  What  comfort  we  children 
used  to  take  sitting  around  the  old  fire-place  winter  eve- 
nings !  We  used  to  take  our  spelling  books  home  and  study 
the  spelling  lesson  for  the  next  day,  and  the  probable  les- 
sons for  the  next  spelling  school,  by  the  light  of  the  fire; 
every  now  and  then  throwing  on  a  piece  of  hickory  bark 
which  would  light  up  the  whole  room  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  when  there  was  company  of  an  evening  we  would  get 
out  the  hickory  nuts,  the  black  walnuts,  the  beechnuts,  the 
hazel  nuts,  and  the  butternuts  for  a  feast,  someone  telling  a 
story  or  singing  a  song  while  the  others  were  cracking  the 
nuts  and  getting  them  ready  to  be  eaten.  And  then  after- 
ward we  would  gather  in  a  semicircle  around  the  big  fire- 


240  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

place  and  play  "Button,  button,  who's  got  the  button?"  Or, 
if  there  was  an  old  soldier  present — and  there  were  old  sol- 
diers then  same  as  now,  only  they  were  soldiers  of  the  war 
of  1812,  he  would  perhaps  be  prevailed  upon  to  tell  a  story  of 
the  war,  or  my  mother  might  tell  how  her  father  was  taken 
prisoner  at  the  battle  of  Long  Island  during  the  war  of  the 
Revolution — ^how  he  was  kept  on  board  a  prison  ship  for 
six  weeks  in  New  York  harbor,  and  finally  when  exchanged, 
was  made  by  his  British  captors  to  pass  directly  by  a  man 
who  was  all  broken  out  with  small  pox.  This  man  was  sit- 
ting right  by  the  gangway  where  all  the  prisoners  as  they 
came  up  from  the  hold  of  the  ship,  had  to  pass  within  a  foot 
or  so  of  him.  How  many  of  them  took  the  disease  it  is  not 
known,  but  my  grandfather  caught  it  and  came  near  dying 
after  he  returned  home.  Stories  of  the  Revolutionary  war 
and  of  the  war  of  1812  were  very  popular  in  those  days. 
The  old  hatred  against  Great  Britain  on  account  of  the  war 
of  the  Revolution  and  of  1812  had  not  then  died  out  to  any 
great  extent  and  the  children  were  taught  by  their  fathers, 
especially  if  the  fathers  were  old  soldiers,  to  hate  the  "red 
coats"  as  the  British  soldiers  were  called. 

But  to  come  back  to  the  subject.  Sometimes  in  sum- 
mer the  lire  went  out,  in  spite  of  pains  taken  to  keep  it  alive, 
and  then  fire  had  to  be  borrowed  from  a  neighbor.  Neigh- 
bors were  plenty  and  some  of  them  were  near.  As  I  re- 
member it,  there  were  eleven  families  living  within  a  mile 
of  my  mother's,  when  I  was  ten  years  old.  As  I  was  the 
oldest  of  the  younger  boys,  it  generally  fell  to  my  lot  to 
go  for  fire  whenever  it  went  out.  It  never  happened,  in  so 
far  as  I  remember,  that  more  than  one  fire  in  the  neighbor- 
hood went  out  at  the  same  time — so  there  was  no  difficulty 
in  borrowing  fire.  But  supposing  a  family  lived  two  or 
three  miles  from  the  nearest  neighbor,  what  would  be  done 
in  that  case?  They  would  take  great  care  that  the  fire 
should  not  go  out.    If  it  did  go  out  they  would  have  a  way 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  241 

to  make  fire.  There  were  several  ways  to  do  this.  In  those 
days  many  men  who  smoked  carried  in  the  vest  pocket  a 
"burning  glass"  as  it  was  then  called — that  is,  a  double  con- 
vex lens,  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter.  The  pipe 
would  be  filled  with  tobacco  and  the  lens  held  in  such  a 
way  as  to  focus  the  sun's  rays  upon  the  tobacco  in  the  pipe, 
and  after  two  or  three  puflFs  the  tobacco  would  take  fire  and 
the  pipe  would  be  lighted.  With  the  burning  glass  a  fire 
could  be  quickly  kindled  by  bringing  the  sun's  rays  to  a 
focus  upon  some  dry,  rotten  wood  or  some  very  fine  shav- 
ings. Of  course  this  could  only  be  done  when  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly. 

Many  people  kept  a  tinder  box,  and  a  flint  and  steel.  I 
carried  these  implements  in  my  pockets  as  play  things  when 
I  was  a  boy.  The  steel  was  an  oval  steel  ring  perhaps  three 
eights  of  an  inch  thick  that  would  slip  easily  over  two  or 
three  fingers  of  the  right  hand — the  tinder  was  linen  cloth 
burned  or  charred  until  it  was  brown,  and  was  carried  in  a 
tin  box  called  a  tinder  box — the  flint  was  any  common  flint 
stone  with  a  sharp  edge.  When  necessary  to  make  a  fire, 
the  tinder  box  was  placed  on  the  hearth  or  on  the  ground, 
with  the  cover  ofif  so  as  to  expose  the  tinder,  the  flint  was 
held  over  it  with  the  left  hand  in  such  a  way  that  when  struck 
by  the  steel  the  sparks  would  fall  upon  the  tinder  thus  set- 
ting it  on  fire.  A  fire  could  then  be  quickly  kindled  with  the 
aid  of  dry,  rotten  wood  or  of  tow  and  fine  shavings.  I  be- 
lieve I  thought  more  of  my  flint,  steel  and  tinder  box,  than 
boys  of  today  do  of  their  bat  and  ball,  or  of  their  marbles. 

I  have  also  kindled  a  fire  several  times  with  a  pistol, 
gunpowder  and  tow.  This  was  done  by  loading  the  pistol 
with  a  very  small  charge  of  powder — only  a  pinch  in  fact, 
and  placing  loosely  on  top  of  the  powder  a  large  wad  of 
very  dry  tow  that  had  been  first  sprinkled  all  through  lightly 
with  gunpowder,  and  then  firing  the  wad  into  a  bunch  of 
fine  shavings.     The  gunpowder  would  ignite  the  tow  and 


242  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

the  tow  would  set  the  shavings  afire.  We  never  used  to 
worry  about  the  fire  going  out — it  was  easily  remedied  if  it 
did.  It  was  not  inconvenient  in  those  days  to  do  without 
matches,  because  we  knew  nothing  about  them. 

For  lighting  the  houses,  the  firelight  from  the  big  fire- 
place, and  tallow  candles,  either  those  known  as  "tallow  dips" 
or  those  cast  in  candle  moulds,  were  the  only  lights  used. 
"Tallow  dips"  were  made  by  dipping  the  cotton  wick  into 
melted  tallow,  and  repeating  the  operation  until  sufficient 
tallow  adhered  to  form  a  candle.  I  said  those  just  named 
were  the  only  lights  used,  and  in  general  this  was  true,  but 
lamps  that  burned  either  whale  oil,  or  sunflower  seed  oil 
were  used  to  some  extent  by  those  who  could  afford  it. 
Later  burning  fluids  of  different  kinds  came  into  use,  but 
candles  continued  to  be  the  main  stay  until  kerosene  was 
introduced. 

Among  the  amazing  changes  that  have  taken  place  in 
the  last  seventy-six  years  are  the  laws  and  regulations  re- 
lating to  our  postal  facilities.  Going  back  seventy-six  years 
we  find  that  the  postal  laws  enacted  by  congress  in  1816  were 
still  in  force.  Under  these  laws,  to  send  a  letter  weighing 
a  half  ounce  30  miles  or  less  cost  6^  cents,  over  30  miles 
and  under  80  it  cost  10  cents,  over  80  miles  and  under  150 
it  cost  12y2  cents,  over  150  miles  and  under  400  it  cost  18^ 
cents,  and  over  400  miles  25  cents.  In  the  year  1845  con- 
gress changed  the  postal  laws  as  follows:  For  a  letter 
weighing  a  half  ounce  300  miles  or  under,  5  cents,  over  300 
miles  10  cents.  There  were  no  postage  stamps  or  envelopes. 
Letters  were  marked  "paid"  or  "due"  as  the  case  might  be, 
as  under  the  laws  then  existing  the  postage  could  be  prepaid 
or  collected  at  the  end  of  the  route.  Postage  stamps  and 
envelopes  did  not  come  into  use  until  the  year  1852.  Letter 
paper  was  made  in  double  sheets,  on  three  pages  of  which 
the  letter  could  be  written,  the  fourth  page  being  left  blank, 
and  it  was  then  so  folded  that  a  part  of  the  blank    page 


EARLY  DAY  STORIES.  243 

formed  the  outside  of  the  letter  which  was  used  for  the 
address.  The  letter  was  sealed  either  with  sealing  wax  or 
by  applying  some  kind  of  paste.  Papers  and  magazines 
were  also  sent  through  the  mails,  but  there  were  no  regula.- 
tions  for  sending  seeds,  cuttings,  merchandise,  etc.,  as  at 
present.  In  those  early  days  daily  newspapers  were  rare, 
and  were  seldom  taken  by  any  except  residents  of  the  cities. 
Some  of  our  neighbors  took  a  weekly  newspaper,  but  more 
of  them  took  no  paper  at  all.  However,  there  was  one  very 
commendable  plan  that  was  carried  out,  and  that  supplied 
in  part  the  lack  of  newspapers.  Under  our  laws  then  exist- 
ing we  had  in  each  township  a  town  library  and  a  town- 
ship librarian,  and  in  each  school  district,  a  district  librarian. 
Every  school  district  in  the  township  could  draw  from  the 
township  library  a  certain  number  of  books,  the  number 
being  prorated  according  to  the  number  of  scholars  in  the 
district,  and  when  these  had  been  read,  they  could  be  ex- 
changed for  others.  I  read  very  many  of  these  library  books, 
and  obtained  from  them  much  of  the  knowledge  that  I  to- 
day possess  of  such  subjects  as  were  treated  by  them.  I  can 
say  of  our  old  township  library  what  cannot  be  said  of  some 
of  the  libraries  today,  both  public  and  private,  that  I  do  not 
believe  it  contained  a  single  cheap,  trashy  volume.  I  doubt 
if  today  there  is  any  other  one  thing  that  exerts  so  baleful 
an  influence  upon  the  minds  of  our  young  people  as  the 
reading  of  worthless  books ;  and  this  is  all  the  more  to  be 
regretted  because  the  full  force  of  this  evil  habit  does  not 
seem  to  be  fully  comprehended  by  the  parents. 

Again  I  have  wandered.  But  to  come  back  to  the  sub- 
ject: Transportation  facihties  were  almost  entirely  want- 
ing, excepting  to  those  who  lived  on  or  near  a  navigable 
waterway.  Until  after  I  was  eighteen  years  old  it  was  thirty- 
two  miles  to  the  nearest  railroad  and  that  railroad  was  not 
worthy  of  the  name  as  compared  with  the  railroads  of  to- 
day.   There  was  almost  no  shipping  of  products  excepting 


2U  EARLY  DAY  STORIES. 

such  things  as  could  be  easily  transported.  I  have  known 
fruit  to  be  so  plentiful  as  to  have  no  market  value  whatever. 
Hogs  and  cattle  were  not  shipped  to  market  as  now  but  to 
some  extent  were  butchered  at  home  in  the  winter  time  and 
the  carcasses  hauled  in  sleighs  either  to  the  lumber  woods 
or  to  Detroit,  a  distance  of  sixty  miles.  I  do  not  remember 
that  there  was  any  grain  shipped  from  our  part  of  the  coun- 
try. 

There  were  many  kinds  of  small  manufacturing  estab- 
lishments in  existence  then  that  we  do  not  have  now.  Every 
village  had  its  cabinet  shop,  its  cooper  shop,  its  wagon  shop 
and  its  blacksmith  shop,  where  bureaus,  bedsteads,  chairs, 
wagons  and  carriages,  pork  barrels,  flour  barrels,  washtubs, 
churns,  axes  and  many  other  kinds  of  tools  and  furniture 
were  made  wholly  at  home.  There  were  also  frequent  man- 
ufactories of  "earthen  ware"  as  it  was  called,  where  crocks 
of  all  kinds  and  sizes  as  well  as  jugs,  churns,  etc.,  were  made. 
In  fact,  the  people  of  those  times  could  have  almost  any- 
thing needed  on  the  farm  or  in  the  house  made  at  home. 
There  were  almost  no  farming  tools  brought  in  from  the 
outside  for  sale  excepting  scythes,  cradles,  shovels,  spades 
and  pitchforks,  and  even  the  pitchforks  were  often  made  by 
the  village  blacksmith.  The  people  of  those  days  were  self- 
reliant  and  independent,  in  which  two  desirable  character- 
istics there  has  been  no  advancement  to  the  present  time. 


i! 


